


Stars in the Southern Sky

by AmyPond45



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Older Jared/Younger Jensen, bottom!Jensen, top!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyPond45/pseuds/AmyPond45
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Handsome, brooding Jared Padalecki is a wealthy 32-year-old West Texas cattle rancher with a tragic past. When his sister dies unexpectedly, Jared takes on his sister's child, 8-year-old Adele, who has been traumatized by her parents' deaths and needs special care. He hires 22-year-old Jensen Ackles, fresh out of college, whose only qualifications are a bachelor's degree in English, a part-time job working with autistic children, and a tragic past of his own. From the moment Jared and Jensen meet, sparks fly, and it's obvious they were meant for each other. But the Padalecki home is harboring secrets, Jensen hears strange sounds in the night, and he begins to wonder if something – or someone – is trying to keep them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars in the Southern Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the spn-meanttobe prompt #39: _The Nanny Arrangement_. Thank you to smalltrolven for her fabulous beta work!

_There are stars_  
_In the Southern sky_  
_Southward as you go_  
_There is moonlight_  
_And moss in the trees_  
_Down the Seven Bridges Road_

 _Now I have loved you like a baby_  
_Like some lonesome child_  
_And I have loved you in a tame way_  
_And I have loved you wild_

 _Sometimes there's a part of me_  
_Has to turn from here and go ___  
_Running like a child from these warm stars_  
_Down the Seven Bridges Road_

 _There are stars in the Southern sky_  
_And if ever you decide you should go_  
_There's a taste of thyme sweetened honey_  
_Down the Seven Bridges Road_

\-- "Seven Bridges Road," by the Eagles

 

*//*

**Part One:**

Flying in small private airplanes should be illegal, Jensen decides as he stumbles down the steps from the tiny six-seater which had just flown him from Midland, Texas to the little town of Alpine, deep in the Western part of the state. His legs are wobbly, and he grabs the flimsy handrail in a death-grip, forcing himself to take deep breaths of the surprisingly cool, dry air.

"Mr. Ackles? Jensen Ackles?"

There's a cowboy on the tarmac, shuffling forward in his boots and Stetson. Jensen swears to God the man's heels are jingling because he's got spurs on, oh yes he does, and there's an honest-to-God toothpick twirling between his teeth, pushed into the corner of his mouth as he readies himself to speak. The mother-of-pearl snap-covers on his plaid workshirt are just the finishing touches, because he's got the huge belt-buckle in the shape of a horseshoe too and the overall effect is just too perfect. Jensen glances around to be sure there are no cameras, because he could swear he's on a movie soundstage, this guy's costume is so perfect.

"Are you Jensen Ackles?" the man repeats, and Jensen nods, noticing a battered pick-up truck parked behind the man, the only vehicle in sight.

"And you're Mr. Justice?" Jensen suggests, repeating the name he's been given for the ranch-hand who was scheduled to pick him up at airport.

The man's face is so grooved with sunburn it's hard to be sure, but Jensen thinks his mouth turns up a little as he nods, so Jensen guesses that's a yes.

"Sonny," the man corrects, sticking his hand out, and Jensen takes it, noting the strength of the man's grip, calloused hands so rough it's hard to imagine he's able to feel Jensen's grip at all. "Welcome to West Texas, Mr. Ackles."

"Jensen," Jensen corrects automatically. "Thank you."

"You got any luggage, Mr. Ackles?" Sonny asks, and Jensen sees the stubborn glint in the man's eye, knows he's being tested.

"No, sir, this is it," he answers, patting the duffel strap slung across his chest with four fingers of his left hand, thumb still hooked in the strap of the messenger bag on his other shoulder.

Sonny nods, doesn't offer to take anything, turns and strides back to his truck bow-leggedly, leaving Jensen to follow as best he can.

"You can put your bags in the back," Sonny nods toward the pick-up's dusty bed, strewn with straw and half-full of heavy metal tool-boxes and a huge coil of barbed wire.

Jensen slings the duffel over the side of the truck, then holds onto the messenger bag as he climbs into the passenger seat of the cab.

"You been to West Texas before, Mr. Ackles?" Sonny asks as he turns the key in the ignition and waits the requisite minute for the diesel engine to warm up.

"No, sir," Jensen shakes his head a little, and Sonny nods.

"Didn't think so," Sonny says, twisting the toothpick in his mouth in something that looks almost like a smirk. The engine roars to life before Jensen has a chance to respond, before he can protest that he's not a total city-slicker, despite what Sonny obviously thinks.

Then they're barreling north along highway 118 toward Fort Davis, Jensen admiring the landscape in spite of himself, unable to resist the comparison between the mountainous scenery here and the flat, dusty terrain of his Dallas home. It could almost be a different country, or at least a different state, not to mention the air temperature.

"We're in the foothills of the Rockies here," Sonny explains, as if he's reading Jensen's mind. "Perfect cattle country. Climate's temperate all year. Peaks in the 80's in the summer, never much below freezing in the winter. Not a lot of rain, but you wait till you see the sky at night. Fairly bursting with starlight. University of Texas put its observatory here on account a' how clear the sky is. It's a real thing of beauty."

Jensen nods, admiring how blue the sky is, unlike the faintly grayish tint of his home-town sky. No pollution here. Not much population, he knows, from the reading he's done, and the closest town, Fort Davis, only has about 1,000 residents. Not much in the way of a school.

Which is why Jensen is here in the first place.

He takes a deep breath, lets it out as he thinks back on the past few months since he graduated from college with nothing but a bachelor's in English and a vague idea of pursuing a Ph.D. in physical therapy. He'd registered with the college's placement office as a last resort, certain there wouldn't be a job that suited his too-common degree, his limited experience working with autistic children in the summers at a local ranch. He never doubted the value of the work he did there, observing first-hand the natural way children connected to animals, often in direct opposition to their ability to connect with people. Over and over Jensen had watched the kids in his care open up with the dogs, cats, and horses on the ranch, becoming obviously affectionate, happy, able to display and express human emotions that had seemed beyond their capabilities.

But the pay was incredibly low, and Jensen had been warned that there wasn't much future in it, unless he wanted to go on to graduate school, and he just couldn't afford that. Life had played a series of tricks on Jensen through the years, starting with his parents' deaths when he was ten years old, after which he was taken in begrudgingly by his mother's brother and his family, his only living relatives. Following Jensen's uncle's untimely death two years later, his widow, overwhelmed by grief and the sudden demands of single-parenthood to her three kids, had given Jensen up to the state. The boy had floundered in the foster system for three years before finding a place with an ex-con who ran a Home for Boys just outside Dallas. The man had seen Jensen's potential, had encouraged his schooling and provided the structure and security Jensen needed to succeed. Under Christian Kane's firm hand, Jensen had thrived and flourished, had finished high school at the top of his class, had won a football scholarship to the University of Texas at Dallas, and had discovered a talent for sports journalism.

Apparently it was the combination of experiences and education that earned a job offer from Jared Padalecki, a wealthy rancher who had taken in his sister's daughter after the sister's death the previous year. The girl hadn't done well at the local school, and Mr. Padalecki needed a tutor, someone who had experience working with special children. Mr. Padalecki's emails didn't explain much about the girl's needs, but the salary offer was over three times what Jensen could hope to make as a beginning teacher at a private school, since he wasn't certified and didn't have a master's degree. It wasn't something he could pass up, and the placement office director was very clear about her inability to help him further if he turned down such an outstanding offer.

So Jensen had flown to Midland International Airport, where Padalecki's private plane had brought him to Alpine, all on Padalecki's dime. It surprised Jensen only a little that the man hadn't bothered to interview him or to meet him in person. Padalecki had a reputation for impulsive behavior, for being reckless and overbearing. Something he'd seen in Jensen's profile had convinced him that Jensen was the man for the job, and apparently that was all there was to it.

Jensen had done his research, had learned everything that a good Google search could provide about Jared Padalecki. Padlock Ranch was so named because the locals apparently couldn't manage Padalecki's multisyllabic surname and (in their typical West Texas way) gave the ranch the nickname as a reminder to the Padaleckis that they were foreigners in these here parts, and therefore permanent newcomers. The Padaleckis adopted the name good-naturedly, apparently, and Padlock Ranch became its official name. The ranch is situated about twenty-five minutes west of Fort Davis, with a classic horse-shoe-shaped sign bridging two tree-trunk sized posts at the entrance. The gravel driveway looks long and hot, with a series of buildings off in the distance, and when Sonny announces he's dropping Jensen at the top of it because he has some fences to mend on the lower-forty, Jensen takes a deep breath and braces himself for an hour's walk, at least. The mid-afternoon sun beats down, and even though it's cooler and dryer here than in Dallas, Jensen's sweating after only about fifteen minutes. It's quiet on the long driveway, the only sound being the crunching of gravel under Jensen's shoes and the buzzing of the occasional fly. Off in the distance Jensen thinks he hears dogs barking, or howling, sometimes both. Three huge buzzards circle and swoop over something across the pasture to his right, and Jensen tries not to think about the hapless animal slowly dying of thirst out there.

The sound of hooves pounding up the driveway behind him starts as a low rumbling, so that it takes Jensen a minute to fully realize what he's hearing. By the time he looks over his shoulder, the huge black horse and its equally huge black-clad rider are bearing down on him at breakneck speed. Jensen starts to move aside, thinking to let the rider pass, but the horse pulls up instead, stopping so suddenly on the slippery gravel that its hooves slip and stamp, long powerful front legs pull back as the horse rears and neighs, then pivots two or three times and stamps some more as Jensen flattens himself against the fence on the side of the driveway, figuring a back full of splinters beats a chest crushed by hooves any day. The animal is panting, nostrils flaring, legs and shoulders quivering with energy as his rider calms him, speaking low and soothingly as he paces back and forth in front of Jensen, snorting and chomping on the bit, baring his huge teeth and making his bridle jangle, the whites of his eyes flashing at Jensen.

"Whoa, Pilot, whoa there," the rider soothes in a voice like nothing Jensen's ever heard; it's deep and calming, but rippling with power at the same time. It's the voice of a man who's used to being in control and likes it that way, and it sends an unexpected shiver up Jensen's spine.

The rider looks up then, and Jensen's grateful that the sun is behind him because when the rider's face tips up under his Stetson so that Jensen can get a good look at him for the first time, it's almost too much. Chiseled features, angular jaw, slanted light-colored eyes and soft pink lips form the most beautiful face Jensen has ever seen, and although Jensen has seen this face in photographs, those images can't do justice to the sheer gorgeousness looking down on him from astride the giant black horse. Not to mention the tall, muscular body, clothed simply in a black button-down rolled up to the elbows and form-fitting black jeans. Jensen's eyes fall to the man's long, slim fingers holding the reins, the other hand reaching down to pat the horse's neck, and suddenly Jensen's noticing the way the man's thigh muscles clench around the horse's body as he leans forward, the cotton of his shirt pulling tight across his well-defined chest.

Fuck if he doesn't have a sudden raging boner for his new employer, and all he can do is hope Jared Padalecki doesn't see it.

"Who the hell are you? What are you doing on my land?" The booming voice makes Jensen look up, meeting the demanding glare of the gorgeous man on the towering horse with what he hopes comes off as a more confident look than he feels.

"I'm–I'm Jensen," Jensen stammers, swallowing hard in his dry throat, reflexively pushing his glasses up his nose, knowing how nervous that makes him look, but whatever. "Jensen Ackles."

Jared frowns, holding onto his pacing, pawing horse with one hand as his other slides down his thigh and damn, if there isn't more strength in that one arm than in Jensen's entire body.

Jensen clears his throat, looks down at his shoes to avoid that piercing stare, trying to adjust himself without Jared noticing the tightness in his pants. He's wearing light-colored trousers and a white button-down, normal summer attire in Dallas but a little over-dressed for West Texas. And way more revealing than the dark clothes Jared's wearing.

"Jensen," Jared breathes his name thoughtfully, and it's too intimate, makes Jensen's skin tingle and come alive all over, even though his brain knows Jared's just trying to place him. "Oh right. The nanny."

Heat rises in Jensen's cheeks. "Tutor," he corrects. "We agreed my title would be 'tutor.'" He sucks in a breath, aware than he's coming across as stubborn and strong-willed, maybe even insubordinate. But there's something about Jared's manner, his expectation of unquestioning obedience, that just rubs Jensen the wrong way. Jensen's not a slave, and he certainly doesn't need to be treated like one.

"Tutor," Jared nods, and Jensen's relieved to see the spark of something like grudging respect in the man's gaze. He seems to be considering Jensen with less belligerance now, maybe even with the beginnings of admiration. "Well, Mr. Ackles, since we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on, we might as well dispense with the pleasantries, right? You obviously know who I am. If I wasn't such a sweaty mess, I'd shake your hand. But as it is, Pilot here needs a good rub-down," he pats the horse's neck again, and the beast snorts, intensifies his pawing and pacing, tosses his head. "So I'll see you up at the house in about an hour. I'll let them know you're coming."

Before Jensen can respond Jared turns away, loosens the reigns and taps the horse's flanks lightly with his heels, and the horse tears off at a dead gallop again, heading away from Jensen toward the house in a cloud of dust, gravel flying everywhere. Jensen watches them go, man and horse moving as one, Jared's broad back clenching as he controls the massive beast, making it look effortless and athletic at once.

By the time Jensen crosses the lawn and climbs the steps to the front door of the house, the sun has started to dip behind the few trees lining the edge of the grounds, providing shade and a place to hang what looks like an old-fashioned wooden swing. Jensen's saved from ringing the doorbell by the opening of the door by a small, slim woman wearing a simple navy house-dress and sensible shoes, her hair pulled back tightly in a severe bun.

"Welcome to Padlock Ranch, Mr. Ackles," she welcomes him, sticking her hand out. "I'm Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper."

"Jensen," Jensen corrects her as he takes her hand, and she shakes her head.

"Formality keeps things running smoothly here, Mr. Ackles," she notes, not unkindly. "We all use our surnames around here, except Miss Adele, of course."

Mrs. Fairfax leads Jensen into the cool main hall, and of course Jensen is overwhelmed by the sheer size of the place, high ceilings and wealth on display everywhere, just like the grounds outside.

"Your room is on the second floor," Mrs. Fairfax explains as she climbs the central staircase, which winds around the hall. "You'll want to wash up and change before you come down to meet Mr. Jared."

"I thought you used surnames only here," Jensen ventures as he follows her up the stairs.

"He'll always be Mr. Jared to me," Mrs. Fairfax answers matter-of-factly as she leads him down the upstairs hall. "I raised him from the moment his parents died, and he was just a baby with only his big sister to look after him. Now that she's passed on too, he's all that's left of the Padalecki homestead. Him and Adele. Mr. Jared is a national treasure. Nothing can change my mind about that."

Jensen lets out a breath as Mrs. Fairfax ushers him into his room. Her loyalty, and the obvious affection in her voice when she speaks of Jared, is reassuring to Jensen, humanizes the dark knight on the black steed Jensen met in the long driveway.

The room Jensen's been given is modest but comfortable, with its own bathroom and a laptop on a small desk. The view out the back of the house from his room’s window is as stunning as the front, with lawns, tennis courts, and a swimming pool giving way to long, low stables and pasture land reaching out as far as the eye can see. Jensen takes a quick shower to wash off the day's dust and sweat, starts pulling out a rumpled shirt from his duffel when it occurs to him to open the closet.

Sure enough, there are several freshly-pressed button-downs hanging neatly, all in his size, along with a couple of pairs of equally neatly-pressed trousers, which he avoids in favor of putting his own back on, along with a clean tee-shirt. He does take one of the shirts off the hanger, weirdly curious. The cotton is fine and cool against his skin, obviously well-made and expensive, and a perfect fit, which should be creepier than it is. Of course Padalecki would know his size. The man is a multi-millionaire with hundreds of people working for him. Somebody undoubtedly interviewed Jensen's roommates, or maybe his ex-girlfriend, to get his clothing sizes. As well as his shoe size, Jensen adds to himself as he pulls out one of three pairs of soft Italian-leather dress-shoes lined neatly in the bottom of the closet.

He opens the drawers of the small dresser, finding them full of socks, underwear, even a couple of belts and a pair of swimming trunks. The bottom drawer contains three pairs of Levis blue-jeans. The room's second closet has three jackets, one of them a working-man's denim jacket, as well as a pair of cowboy boots and a hat, which Jensen can't resist trying on, checking himself out in the mirror. A couple of plaid flannel work-shirts hang beside the denim jacket.

Jensen puts away his own meager possessions in the one empty dresser drawer, finds the bathroom similarly stocked with toiletries (he's already used the shampoo and soap in the shower), leaves his toothbrush and shaving supplies there anyway.

When he finally leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind him, the sun has already dipped below the rocky bluffs on the western horizon. The hallway is silent and gloomy, the only light coming in from a tall window on the landing. As Jensen heads down the hall, walking as quietly as possible on the carpeted surface, he notices a door ajar at the end, just at the top of the stairs. Unable to control his curiosity, he peers inside, where a narrow wooden staircase leads up sharply into darkness. The air is close and thick here, as if the radiant heat of the day had stagnated and settled in this one spot, leaving the atmosphere heavy and hushed with expectation. Jensen realizes he's holding his breath, and he turns away, feeling strangely guilty, as if the discovery of the little staircase were not a complete accident, as if he had been prying.

That's when he hears it. A low, rhythmic laugh that sounds almost like sobbing echoes along the corridor. It's dark and mirthless and goes on and on, so lonely and expressionless it might be an animal, or something mechanical. It barely sounds human, that's for sure. And when it stops abruptly, cut off in mid-chuckle as if a switch had been thrown, the ensuing silence is too quiet, too complete. Jensen stands perfectly still for another moment, waiting for the laughter to start up again, trying to pinpoint its location. When the silence continues after several moments, Jensen starts down the stairs, shrugging off the uneasy feeling tickling the back of his neck.

In the gloom and quiet of early evening the house seems deserted. When Jensen reaches the foyer on the first floor without meeting anyone he starts walking toward the back of the house, down the hall to where he assumes there will be life, and people, and food. He pokes his head into large, silent rooms, first a living room, then a library or study, and finally a dining room, all still and empty. The dining room has large french doors opened onto a veranda overlooking the back lawns, and Jensen can see a lighted fire-pit flickering there, the first sign of life or even of movement since he left his room, so he steps out, immediately noticing the smell of meat grilling. His mouth waters and his stomach rumbles; he realizes he hasn't eaten since he left Dallas this morning, and suddenly he's starving.

"It's about time you came down," a voice startles him, and Jensen jumps. Jared Padalecki is seated in a lounge chair to his right, nursing a glass of amber liquid and watching the sunset, or at least Jensen imagines that's what he must've been doing. His hair is slicked back and damp, and his face looks pink and freshly scrubbed. He's changed into a clean pair of black jeans and a finely-woven white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to display his powerful forearms. "Figured you must've passed out up there after your long day traveling."

Jensen takes the seat Jared offers, lets Jared pour him a whiskey, feeling stupidly shy in the presence of the mountain of energy and dark passion that is Jared. The man sprawls in his chair with the grace and power of a mountain lion, his long limbs splayed casually, his piercing gaze following Jensen's movements with an expression that seems both amused and scornful.

"Wanted to wait for you before I put your steak on," Jared explains as he rises, crossing purposefully to the grill, raises the lid to turn his own steak, then turns to Jensen with the fork in his hand like a weapon. "How do you like it?"

"However you're having yours is fine," Jensen manages, fighting down the urge to fidget, to let his knee bounce as he fingers his glass.

"Bloody," Jared's grin is dimpled and gorgeous, like the rest of him, and it sends a shiver up Jensen's spine. "I like it pretty rare."

"That's fine," Jensen nods gamely. "Bloody it is."

The sky is blood-red now, and a few stars are just starting to appear to the east. Jensen admires the dark purple of the Davis Mountains against the deep red of the sky, tries not to appreciate Jared's strong, muscled shoulders as they move under his shirt, but it's a losing battle. The man is seriously built, and watching him turn the steaks on the grill is one of the hottest things Jensen can ever remember seeing in his entire life.

 _Get a grip, Ackles,_ he admonishes himself sternly. Having the hots for the boss on the first day doesn't bode well for the job.

Then Jared catches him looking and Jensen ducks his head, blushing furiously and grateful for the encroaching darkness, hoping it hides the color he can feel burning his face and neck, scorching the tips of his ears.

"So, tell me why I hired you, Mr. Ackles?" Jared's smiling, his eyes twinkling mischievously. Of course the bastard knows the effect he has on people. He can't be that gorgeous and not know how to work it.

Jensen blushes harder, shakes his head a little, having trouble meeting Jared's eyes. "I don't know, exactly," he admits, hearing the shy smile in his voice and hating it. "You want me to tutor your niece. Teach her things." It sounds so lame, Jensen cringes. He clears his throat and shifts awkwardly in his seat, fingering his glass nervously.

"That's right. Adele has had a lot of trauma in her life," Jared notes as he flips the steaks. "She doesn't respond well to traditional education methods. I brought you on board because I'm hoping you can help her."

Jensen nods. "When can I meet her?" he asks, glancing around. "Is she here?"

"I sent her into town with Mrs. Fairfax to see a movie," Jared explains, spearing his steak and flipping it onto a plate. "I figured it would be easier to give you a little time to unwind after your trip. You can meet her in the morning."

"So you live here alone?" Jensen asks, then immediately blushes again. "With Adele, I mean."

Jared's eyes flash as he gives a slight nod. "Just us," he agrees, "and Mrs. Fairfax, of course, and John and Mary Hunt. John does the gardening, manages the farm. Mary's a first-rate cook, as you'll find out when you come down for breakfast in the morning. They live in the caretaker's cottage. I gave them the night off so you and I could have a chance to get to know each other."

"So nobody else is home right now?" Jensen asks, puzzled. "It's just us?"

Jared spears Jensen's steak and plops it on a plate, hands it to him, lifts his eyes to Jensen's and pauses meaningfully, and Jensen is suddenly consumed with lust so powerful he can't think straight. Jared's mouth twitches, like he knows exactly where Jensen's brain (and his dick) have gone, and he holds Jensen's gaze for another moment before turning away, reaching for a wine bottle and a couple of glasses.

"Just us, Mr. Ackles," he says with a smile as he pours rich red wine into a glass for Jensen, hands it to him. Of course their fingers brush and of course Jensen's entire body is tingling like a firecracker about ready to go off as Jared gestures toward the table. "Care to join me?"

"Jensen," Jensen chokes out as he gets to his feet, crosses to the table and sits down opposite Jared. "Please call me Jensen."

"Then you must call me Jared," Jared responds, and the flirtatious tone in his voice is unmistakable now, teasing. "My friends call me Jay."

"Okay, Jared," Jensen sees Jared's bet, raises him another hundred, returning the full volley of Jared's amused gaze with a challenge of his own. "Since you're my boss, I think I'll stick with the formal address. Mrs. Fairfax seems to think that's how it's done around here."

Jared raises his glass in salute, smiles with real warmth, and it's just devastating. "Mrs. Fairfax is a wise woman," he says, nodding. "She practically raised me, not that the result is anything to be proud of."

"I don't know about that," Jensen raises an eyebrow. "Seems like you turned out all right." He blushes again at the personal turn in the conversation, wonders if he's had a little too much to drink already.

Jared is eyeing him askance now, smile turning grim, his expressive eyes clouding with remembered grief. "That's because you don't know me," he says darkly, lowering his eyes to his plate. "My life is nothing like what you've read in the media. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm cursed, if you want to know the truth."

Jensen watches as Jared takes a bite of his steak, swallows a sip of his wine, then reaches for the bottle. The matter-of-fact manner of Jared's tone belies the depth of the man's grief, making his words sound less melodramatic than they might have, and Jensen feels oddly protective, wishes there was something he could do to make Jared feel better about himself.

"My mom used to tell me curses were blessings in disguise," Jensen says. "You just have to know how to look at them."

Jared lifts his eyes to Jensen's and his brow clears, softens. "I didn't have a mother," he says quietly. "She died when I was a baby."

"I'm sorry," Jensen says, keeping his tone grave and sincere, and Jared nods.

"It's okay," he says. "I had my sister, and Mrs. Fairfax. She's family, actually. Her mother and my father were first cousins. They grew up together here. She became my official guardian, since my parents didn't leave a will and she was next of kin. My parents weren't exactly practical people. They were into a lot of causes, always off saving the world in their little private plane. They died doing what they believed in, helping build a school in Haiti after a hurricane. They were flying home to us when their little plane went down. The water was so deep where it went down that it took five years before they were finally located. Not much left to recover by that time."

Jensen chews his steak, trying not to enjoy it too much, but the wine and even the grilled vegetables are incredibly good so it takes him a minute to realize Jared has stopped talking, is watching him. He blushes again – just can't seem to stop doing that in Jared's presence – and gestures appreciatively at his plate.

"It's good," he says.

"Home-grown beef is always the best," Jared agrees, amusement curling up the corners of his soft, pink mouth. "How about you, Jensen? Your story isn't exactly all roses and sunshine either."

Jensen runs his tongue along his bottom lip, then pulls it between his teeth and gnaws on it for a minute, aware of Jared watching him. When he looks up, Jared's eyes are dark, hooded. Jensen reaches for his wine glass, takes a sip.

"Not much to tell, really," he answers finally. "My parents died when I was about ten. Car crash. I lived with my uncle and his family for a couple of years, until he died. Then I was on my own after that a lot till Chris Kane took me in, put me straight, helped me finish high school and get into college. But you knew all that."

Jared nods slowly. "Needed to hear you tell it," he says quietly, his expression soft, sympathetic. "Seems to me life hasn't been very kind to you, Jensen."

Jensen frowns, shakes his head. The self-pitying thing has never worked for him. It's just not worth it. "No way," he says. "I've been incredibly lucky. When Chris found me, I was drifting, really at loose ends and up to no good. Going down a dark road. But he was all about discipline, hard work, doing the job of living day to day and making something of your life. He pushed me, challenged me when I needed it. And it was tough, but I did it, I made it. You don't have to fall through the cracks just because life deals you a bum hand. But it takes somebody helping you. I couldn't have done it without him, and I'll always be grateful. I'm one of the lucky ones."

Jared smiles, takes another sip of his wine, reaches for the bottle again. "You sound like my sister," he notes. "Those are the kinds of things she used to say to me, especially when I started whining about not having a mom and dad like everybody else. She'd tell me to buck up and be grateful for what I did have." He tops off Jensen's wine glass, then sits back in his chair, gazing into the darkness beyond the fire pit. "I miss her," he confesses softly.

Jensen nods. "That never stops," he agrees, letting himself remember his mother's fond smile, his father's warm hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, okay, enough crying into our wine," Jared announces with a huffed breath that sounds like something between a laugh and a sob. He brushes irritably at his eyes with the back of his hand as he surges up, gathers the plates and dumps them into the sink. "Dessert?" he asks as he turns back, but Jensen shakes his head.

"I'm good with the whiskey," Jensen answers, more than a little moved by Jared's teary-eyed countenance. The man has run the emotional gauntlet tonight, that's for sure. And every single expression is as fascinating and attractive as the last.

Jensen is in such deep shit.

But at least he's relaxed by now, so that when Jared moves back to the lounge chairs it's easy for Jensen to join him, to smoke the evil-smelling cigar Jared offers, to sit in companionable silence and gaze at the show that is the brilliantly starlit West Texas sky. And when Jared finally suggests they turn in so they can start fresh the next day, Jensen's able to take the strong, warm hand Jared offers without blushing, to look into the man's eyes without collapsing into a gooey puddle on the stone patio at Jared's feet.

Yes, there's no doubt Jensen is powerfully attracted to his new boss, but he's starting to think maybe they can be friends, too. At least, he hopes so.

**//**

Jensen's awakened in the early hours of the morning by a low moaning, and it's such an inhuman sound that at first Jensen thinks it's a cow giving birth. His sleep-addled mind provides that thought as the only possible explanation, and since it's a ranch and there are cattle, it seems more plausible than anything else. Except that the sound is coming from inside the house, Jensen's pretty sure as he comes to consciousness. Then it stops abruptly, almost as if a switch was flipped, and Jensen finds himself lying awake, blinking into the darkness of the room, waiting for the sound to start up again. When it doesn't, Jensen lets himself drift off to sleep with the uneasy memory of the odd laughter he heard earlier, and he promises himself he'll ask Mrs. Fairfax about it in the morning.

But when he comes down later in the morning – deliberately waiting until the cock stops crowing and he can hear activity in the house so he's sure he's not the first one up – there's a little girl sitting at the dining room table, coloring. She's a pretty, delicate little thing with big dark eyes and silky dark ringlets framing her sharp little face, and Jensen recognizes a little of Jared in her features right away, softened and feminized, but definitely there. _She'll be a real beauty someday,_ Jensen thinks as she looks up, stares at him with an open frankness couched in more sorrow than a child this age should ever feel, and his heart just melts.

"Hey," he smiles at her, going for an easy charm that usually works with kids. "You must be Adele. I'm Jensen."

Her eyes widen just a little, in apprehension maybe, but she doesn't answer, just looks down and keeps coloring. But at least she doesn't run away, so Jensen figures it's a good start.

"What are you coloring?" he asks as he moves toward her, slowly so that he doesn't frighten her. She glances at him as he closes in, standing over her shoulder to look down at her work. She's drawn a house with three people and an animal, maybe a dog, Jensen's not clear about that, but he nods encouragingly. "Not bad," he says. "Is that you?" he points to the smallest figure in the picture.

Adele still says nothing, but she gives a little nod, so Jensen knows she heard him.

"And these two?" he goes on, pointing to the other figures in the drawing. "Is this your mom and dad?"

Adele tenses, shakes her head a little, then pushes the picture away, scoots sideways on her chair as if she means to make a run for it, so Jensen backs up a little, gives her more space, putting his hands up.

"Hey, that's okay," he murmurs soothingly. "It's a sensitive subject. I get it. I lost my parents when I was about your age, so believe me, I get it."

She looks up at him then, eyes wide, and Jensen gives a little rueful smile, nods, and Adele seems to consider him for the first time, frowning thoughtfully.

"I see you've met your young charge," Mrs. Fairfax's voice rings out from the doorway as she bustles into the room, carrying a tray of steaming coffee and a plate piled with eggs, bacon and toast. "Adele's already had her breakfast in the kitchen earlier, but you can eat yours in here."

"Jared–?" Jensen starts to ask, but Mrs. Fairfax cuts him off.

"Mr. Jared went out with Sonny to check on the cattle this morning," she tells him. "We have five head that are ready to calve, and we don't want to lose them."

"No," Jensen agrees cluelessly. "We wouldn't want that."

"You and Adele can spend the morning together," Mrs. Fairfax directs. "After breakfast John will take you down to the stables so you can get acquainted with the horses. Milly is Adele's mare; she'll show you. And Mr. Jared suggested you could ride Charger, if you're up to it, or Scoot, if you need something a little more sedate. Charger can be a bit of a handful."

"I'm sure I can manage," Jensen nods, grateful that he dressed for the outdoors today. His jeans and plaid flannel are almost a match for Adele's, although she's wearing sneakers instead of boots.

She changes before they go down to the stables, though, slipping out of her sneakers and into her cowboy boots in the little mudroom out back of the kitchen. Jensen left his Stetson upstairs, so Adele hands him a cowboy hat off the hook by the door as she grabs one for herself. It's a little big, and Jensen feels a stupid thrill as he puts it on, knowing without asking that it's Jared's. John Hunt meets them at the gate, after they cross the huge expanse of lawn behind the house, passing tennis courts and the swimming pool. He shakes Jensen's hand, but doesn't say much; Jensen's beginning to think there must be an unspoken no-talking-unless-absolutely-necessary rule at Padlock Ranch. At any rate, John displays enough kindness toward Adele to assure Jensen that his social reticence doesn't apply to the little girl. He's already brought the horses in from the pasture for them, helps them saddle and bridle, straps a lunch pack to the back of Jensen's saddle, then gives Jensen brief directions for a good three-hour ride.

Jensen's not sure it's the best idea for him to take Adele on a long horseback ride first thing, but one glance at the girl's enraptured face as she feeds a carrot to her gentle mount, stroking the mare's broad neck with loving hands, and Jensen's convinced.

"Do you need any help climbing on?" he asks, and she shoots him a look of such patent disdain, reminding him that she's probably been riding since she was two, that he shrugs and nods. "Okay, then. Let's get going before it gets any hotter."

Adele grabs hold of the back of the saddle with one hand, the horn with the other, hoists herself up enough to reach the stirrup, then slings her small body gracefully into the saddle. Her patient horse sidesteps only a little to accommodate Adele's slight weight, but she's got the reins in one hand, leans down to pat the horse's neck with the other before settling back, looking small but totally at ease as she waits for Jensen to mount.

Charger is clearly not a horse who suffers fools gladly. He's got a mind of his own, and Jensen can tell right away that Charger is a horse that needs a firm hand.

"Whoa there, Charger," Jensen coaxes as he pats the animal's neck, moves to his left side with the reins clutched loosely in one hand. As soon as he puts his boot-clad foot into the stirrup Charger sidesteps, then starts to pivot toward Jensen, so that if he hadn't grabbed the saddle and practically jumped across the animal's back he would've easily been shaken loose. Charger's in a serious pivot by the time Jensen swings his leg over, wrangles control with a firm grip on the reins, then gives the animal a sharp tug back, his thighs clenching to let Charger feel his weight and determination.

"Whoa there, Charger," he says again, putting the weight of command and warning into his voice that makes Charger's ears flatten at first, then flick forward again. "That's it, boy. Settle down, now."

Charger snorts, paws the ground, and Jensen lets the reins go a little so he can toss his head, then pulls him back in again firmly. When he feels sure Charger has accepted him, however tentatively, he glances at Adele, finds her grinning widely, eyes sparkling.

"Didn't think I could do it, didja?" Jensen raises an eyebrow at her. "You figured I'd get tossed, am I right?"

Adele nods, smiling even broader, and Jensen lets his face relax into a smile too, shaking his head. "You ain't seen nothin' yet, monkey-girl."

The smile drops so abruptly from Adele's face it's like a curtain came down. She lowers her eyes and turns away, her horse obeying her like it's part of her, turning to walk out of the corral and down the trail to the creek. Jensen follows, stupefied, wondering what he'd said that shut her down so sharply.

"What?" he calls after her. "What did I say? Adele? What's wrong?" It occurs to him, as a stroke of pure intuition, that the endearment he used was probably one Adele had heard before, a nickname her father had probably used. Of course, with Adele's lithe little gymnast's body, it would've been a comparison she was accustomed to, and Jensen makes a mental note to avoid using any nicknames that refer to Adele's natural athletic ability, however obliquely. He can still remember the nick-names his parents used for him as a child, and he's pretty sure that if his aunt or uncle had ever used them it would've infuriated him. Luckily, they were never very fond of him in the first place, so the notion of using an endearment when addressing Jensen would never have occurred to either one of them.

They ride in silence for almost an hour, Jensen following on Charger as Adele's mare leads the way down the trail to the creek bed. They mosey along it for some time as Jensen admires the view, giving thanks to whatever pagan god of watery passages that there are no bugs, since he's always been a magnet for mosquitoes and other biting insects. The trees and shrubs along the water provide shade, and the cool air temperature over the water is soothing, gives Jensen time to reflect on last night's introductory dinner with his employer. He tries not to dwell on how easy it felt to talk to Jared, after the initial embarrassment due to his obvious inability to control his own attraction to the man. The fact is, Jensen has never been so intensely attracted to anyone in his life, and it's more than a little disconcerting. He tries to forget the fact that he jerked off to the memory of Jared's lips sucking smoke from his cigar, or Jared's hands holding the wine bottle, of Jared's back muscles straining under his shirt as he flipped the steaks on the grill.

Not to mention Jared's dimpled smile, his easy manner once he loosened up, dropped the brooding self-pity. The man's gorgeousness became positively explosive when he smiled, and Jensen's long past thinking this is his life's mission, right here, to make Jared Padalecki smile, as much as possible.

He's deep in his own thoughts, dick already at least at half-mast, when there's a sound of rustling bushes ahead of them on the trail and suddenly Jared is there, astride that massive black beast he was riding yesterday, bearing down on them from the hillside.

"Hey," Jared huffs, pulling Pilot up sharply so he's in the creek-bed, facing Jensen and Adele like a mountainous barrier, unable to be breached without first being confronted.

"Hey," Jensen greets his boss, not sure what kind of look Adele is giving because her back is to him. She pulls Milly up quick, though, waits as Jared gives her a little half-smile, then lifts his eyes to Jensen, and the world falls away. Because in that look, just that one glance, Jensen can see that Jared's spent the previous night thinking about him, too. There's a desperate, haunted look in Jared's eyes when he looks at Jensen, and Jensen just knows. Doesn't have a doubt in his mind about Jared's feelings, and it's the craziest, most intense thing he's ever felt.

"Thought we could ride together," Jared says, his glance fluttering over Jensen, over Adele, unable to land anywhere.

"How'd the calving go?" Jensen asks, suddenly more sure of himself because this isn't so new for him, he's been feeling it since at least yesterday mid-afternoon, and he's more than slightly amused that Jared has only just begun to face it, this thing between them.

"Good," Jared raises his chin, but still can't seem to look Jensen in the eye. "It's all good. Two of the cows are ready, so we were able to herd them into the barn. The other three have got a way to go yet, but we'll keep an eye on them. It's all under control."

"Good," Jensen agrees. "So, where to, boss?"

Jared raises his eyes then, looks directly into Jensen's eyes, and the intent is so raw, so direct, that it takes Jensen's breath away.

"Jared," Jared demands tersely. "Call me Jared."

Jensen nods."Okay, then. Where to, Jared?"

Jared looks at him again, and it's the same dark, haunted gaze that threatens to take his breath away, permanently. Instead of answering, Jared pivots his horse and starts back up the embankment the way he came. Adele guides Milly to follow, and Jensen takes up the rear, trying not to watch the way Jared's massive back muscles move under his shirt.

Once they're out of the creek-bed, the midday heat hits them like a wall. Jensen is struck again by how much drier the air is; he's guessing the temperature is in the upper eighties, but without humidity it's almost bearable. They climb higher along the hillside, and Jensen wonders about the lack of fencing, since they've traveled at least five miles from the house by now and haven't run into so much as a barbed-wire. He keeps his hat tipped low, cursing himself for not applying sunscreen this morning. His fair skin will be hurting this evening, he just knows it.

Jared leads them onto the plateau at the top of the ridge, and from there Jensen can see back over the valley they climbed out of, all the way across the fields and pastures they crossed. Jared doesn't stop, though, until they've reached a grove of scrubby trees, then he stops and climbs down, loops his reins over a tree branch and rubs Pilot's sweaty neck.

"We can eat here," he announces as he helps Adele down, then loosens the pack on the back of her saddle.

Of course Adele lets him, defers to her uncle, the only family she has left. Jensen keeps a wary eye on her as she leads Milly over to another tree branch, loops her reins over it, then pulls a carrot from her little knapsack and feeds it to the horse. Pilot tosses his head and snorts jealously, so she digs out another one for him, then a third for Charger, who has calmed down so much in the presence of the alpha horse it's almost comical. Jensen dismounts and leaves Charger tied up next to Milly, unstraps his pack.

Jared spreads the picnic blanket on the hard ground, in the shade under the trees, and Adele helps unpack, handing out sandwiches and water bottles. Jensen finds he's genuinely hungry after the long ride. Jared sits down on a rock next to the blanket while Jensen and Adele stretch out in the shade.

"This is good," Jensen comments admiringly around a bite of sandwich.

"Told you Mary's a good cook," Jared smirks, swallowing his bite and following it with a long pull from his water bottle. Jensen tries not to watch his adam's apple bobbing in his long neck, tries not to notice the enticing little mole on his collarbone, the matching one on his chin. Jared lowers the bottle from his pink lips and nods toward the horses. "So you can ride," he comments approvingly. "I told John to have Scoot ready too, just in case."

"Perks of having a summer job at a ranch," Jensen nods. "Lots of riding. Plus, my dad worked weekends at a ranch, so I spent a lot of time around horses as a kid."

Jensen has the distinct feeling he's being watched as closely by Jared as he’s watching Jared, and it makes his belly flutter and his palms sweat. Jared's ten years older than Jensen, and his boss, and this thing has come on so fast between them, but it feels intense and real and unlike anything Jensen has ever felt for someone before. The thought that Jared is feeling it too is almost surreal, especially since Jensen hasn't exactly figured out what "it" is yet. Sexual attraction, for sure, and in spades; every time Jared leans forward and stretches one of his long arms out to pick up another sandwich, Jensen can't keep his eyes off the tan, muscled skin, the long, slender fingers, follows them up to Jared's pink mouth and just wants that with every fiber of his being.

But there's something else, something deeper than mere lust. Or the lust is part of something more, Jensen isn't sure which. The tired plot of every romance novel ever written screaming ‘love at first sight!’ into his brain just won't stop, and it's almost comical except that it's really disturbing because he doesn't believe in that shit.

By the time they finish and start the ride back down the ridge, storm clouds are gathering on the horizon. The valley looks hushed and heavy in the impending gloom, and they're still an hour out when the clouds just open with a rush of cool wind and a crash of thunder. The rain comes down so hard and loud there's no way to talk over it, and all they can do is tip their hats down, huddle on their saddles, and let the horses find their way home. Luckily, they're off the rocky hillside and on the plain by this time, and the horses pick their way sure-footedly homeward, even without a trail. They're soaked to the bone within a few minutes, and the pelting rain muffles any other sound, so they don't bother to try to talk, not that there's much to talk about. 

Jared pulls up alongside Adele's mount and speaks into her ear; Adele nods, and Jared pulls her off her horse and onto his, tucking her against his huge frame so that she disappears in front of Jared's body, providing warmth and a modicum of shelter. He shoots a glance at Jensen under his hat, and his face takes Jensen's breath away. Jensen's already taken his glasses off because it's impossible to see in the rain with them on, so Jared's features are a little blurred, but there's something so predatory and considering in his gaze, something direct and open but unfathomable at the same time, and it makes the blood pound in Jensen's ears, makes him sweat under his soaked shirt. 

Jared turns away, holding Adele against him with one arm, Milly's reins in the other hand, and Jensen watches his back, muscles moving under the wet fabric of his shirt, thinking stupidly that he'd follow this man off a cliff if Jared wanted to lead him there. There's something of the mountain lion in Jared, Jensen decides; his big body so tightly wound, all coiled like he's ready to spring. Even his features are leonine, with his high cheekbones and slanted eyes, sharp nose and chin. Hawk-like, maybe, too, Jensen decides. The man definitely seems at least half beast, and it makes Jensen shiver to imagine those long, powerful fingers on his skin, to remember the electrical charge he's pretty sure they both felt when they touched.

Damn it all to hell anyway. He's literally never had it this bad for someone, and certainly not somebody he's known barely twenty-four hours. _Get a grip, Ackles,_ he scolds himself for what feels like the hundredth time, forcing himself to look down, just to get his eyes off the muscled frame on the big horse, letting Charger follow freely as Jensen knows he will.

By the time they reach the home pasture they're soaked so thoroughly Jensen feels like a proverbial drowned rat. He can feel water squelching inside his boots, even though they're tucked inside his heavy, wet jeans. John meets them at the door to the stables, reaches for Adele with a warm dry blanket, pulls her off Jared's saddle and wraps her up, then hurries her toward the house for cocoa and fresh-baked biscuits, leaving Jared and Jensen to tend to the horses. The two men keep busy for several minutes, silently unsaddling and brushing the horses down, then stabling them with fresh hay and water. Jensen speaks softly to the horse as he finishes, then turns to find Jared staring at him, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe. He's been standing there for at least a minute, watching Jensen, and Jensen knows it because he could feel it. Lightning flashes, leaving an afterimage like a camera flash in the stable, throwing Jared's strong features into even sharper relief. Jensen puts down the brush, moves out of the stall as thunder crashes a minute after the lightning, running his hand down Charger's back, patting his flank as he looks up at Jared expectantly.

Okay, now what?

 _Now, we fuck,_ his dick-brain supplies helpfully as he meets Jared's eyes. _Now we crash together like a fuckin' train wreck, tearing off long strips of sodden clothing, bruising each other with our mouths and our hands, finally falling into an empty stall on a pile of soft, sweet-smelling hay in a desperate, half-naked scramble of lips and fingers and rutting hips, dry-humping until we come, half-uttered moans and stuttered gasps barely audible above the crash of the thunder and the roar of the rain outside._

Or not.

"Come on," Jared gestures, lowering his eyes and shrugging his big body off the doorframe. "Let's hit the showers. Get some dry clothes on. Mary'll have supper on in an hour." He's turning away from Jensen as he speaks, leading the way out of the stables and back to the house.

Jensen follows, manfully stilling his pounding heart, scolding himself sharply for his stupid little daydream. Even if Jared's thoughts have gone there – and with the looks Jared's been giving him all day, Jensen's pretty sure he's been thinking about it – Jared's common sense and greater wisdom have clearly won out, at least for now. Jensen breaks into a jog and then a sprint as he follows his boss across the lawns to the house, holding his hat and trying not to admire Jared's long-legged dash, all lean-muscled movements and tight, firm ass. They burst through the mudroom door almost side by side, laughing and panting and all but pressed up against each other, dripping and sloshing, their boots making squelching noises on the stone floor. They hang their hats, kick off their boots, catching their breaths and stealing glances at each other, making each other grin stupidly each time their eyes meet because everything just seems so funny, and it feels so good, just being together.

"Well, you'd think two grown men would have more sense than to go so far out on a day when they're predicting a rainstorm," Mrs. Fairfax's no-nonsense voice brings them both up short, and a hot flush burns up Jensen's chest all the way to his ears, as if he and Jared had been caught kissing. She's standing in the doorway from the hall, her arms full of dry towels, which she hands out to each of them, shaking her head and pursing her lips and frowning at them. Jensen takes the towel she offers and rubs his head with it, wipes his face, catches Jared's eye and grins all over himself again, trying not to laugh because the feeling of being naughty schoolboys caught doing something they're not supposed to is just too damn hilarious.

Jared barks out a laugh as he towels himself off, and Mrs. Fairfax shakes her head again.

"I don't know what you think is so funny about exposing that little girl to the elements this way, Mr. Jared," she scolds. "She's likely to catch cold, as soaked and shivering as she was when John brought her in."

"No, no, you're right," Jared agrees, not very convincingly. "We won't do it again, will we, Jensen?"

"No, sir," Jensen deadpans, as Mrs. Fairfax tsks her tongue.

"You can leave your wet clothes here," she points at a basket in the corner. "I don't need you tracking all that mud and water all over my clean house." She turns to leave, putting down the rest of the towels on the chair by the door.

That sobers them up. Jensen's suddenly shivering, and it's not from being wet and cold. Not entirely, anyway.

"She wants us to–" he hesitates, and Jared cuts him off, not looking at him.

"Yeah," he clears his throat nervously, fingering his towel and frowning after Mrs. Fairfax's retreating form.

Jensen takes a deep breath. "Okay, then," he mutters, almost to himself. He drops the towel, reaches up and unbuttons his shirt, the cuffs last, focusing on keeping his eyes down, not looking as he feels Jared's eyes on him. He's pulling off his tee-shirt before he looks up, raises his eyebrows at Jared, who's staring at him like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. "What?"

Jared gaze darts down, over Jensen's bare chest, and he swallows hard. "Nothing," he mutters, frowning as he starts to unbutton his own shirt, and even though Jensen can't help sneaking a glance at him as he starts to unbutton his jeans, Jared seems to be keeping his eyes on his own body now. It's hard not to stare as miles of lean, hard muscle magically appear beside him, but Jensen does it, keeps his eyes down, doesn't watch as Jared unbuttons his jeans, pushes them and his boxers down over his perfect ass.

Except that he keeps catching glimpses. Fuck. When Jared finally tosses his jeans, socks, and underwear into the basket on top of Jensen's, Jensen's as hard as a rock. He grabs the towel off the floor to cover his groin, then reaches awkwardly around Jared to grab another towel off the chair. And of course he can't help noticing that Jared is hard too, has in fact the largest erect penis Jensen has probably ever seen. No, definitely. He's never, ever seen a bigger one, except maybe on a horse. Maybe.

"Sorry, sorry," Jensen mutters as his arm accidentally brushes against Jared's hip. Jared makes a funny high-pitched noise in the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and Jensen busies himself wrapping the towel around his waist, keeping hold of the other towel to hide the obvious tent pointed straight at Jared.

"I'll just–" Jensen tries to brush past Jared toward the door, but there really isn't room in the small space without crowding into each other. And touching. Jared finally figures it out and grabs a towel to wrap around his own waist, turning to present that amazing ass as he does it, and Jensen practically comes untouched.

"No, I'll go," Jared manages, because he really is closer to the door and as long as he heads out first there won't need to be any brushing of chests or rubbing of asses...

Oh shit, Jensen just needs a cold shower.

He follows Jared wordlessly, fighting to control the throbbing in his dick as he watches all that tan skin moving down the hall and up the stairs ahead of him, tries not to notice how his back muscles ripple as they move, how his calf muscles are covered with a layer of fine, dark hair. Even the backs of his knees...okay, especially the backs of his knees...seem to be inviting Jensen to dip his tongue, to suckle at the sensitive, warm skin...

_Shower. Need that shower. Shit, shit, shit._

When Jensen's finally in his room with the door closed – and yes, for a heart-stopping moment he'd wondered if Jared would invite him into his room, which just happens to be right next door, but he just goes in and shuts it with barely a glance at Jensen, muttering, "See you in an hour" – he breathes a sigh of relief, letting the towels drop to the floor and closing his eyes for a minute, just to get a hand on himself. Because his dick is painfully hard right now and he can't possibly wait till he gets into the shower. He comes almost immediately, with only a few short jerks, standing with his back against the door, images of Jared's perfect ass and monster dick and beautiful slender hands and pink mouth replaying in his head in a continuous feedback loop.

It occurs to him that Jared might very possibly be doing the same thing, which makes him hard again in record time. He makes it to the shower this time, comes again to thoughts of Jared, makes sure he's good and relaxed before he gets out to dress for dinner. The fluttery feeling in his belly at the thought of seeing Jared again just won't quit, and he's relieved to find someone has left a tray with whiskey and water on the dresser. He pours himself a double, sips it as he gets dressed, then pours himself another one and swallows it down before he leaves his room.

**Part Two:**

In the dining room a fire blazes on the hearth, where Adele sits curled up with a book and a happy-looking black-and-white collie. Jared's sitting at one end of the long, formal dining table, working on his laptop. The other end of the table is set with four places, a basket of bread and a side-board of cheese. Jared looks up when Jensen appears in the doorway, hesitating awkwardly. Jared's smile is warm and makes his eyes twinkle in the firelight; he's dressed in his signature black jeans and white button-down again, and he makes Jensen think of a Byronic poet with his dark hair swept back from his strong brow, damp from his recent shower. Except that his huge, muscular frame is too active for a poet; he's more like an 18th-century pirate, Jensen decides, the partly-scandalous but good-hearted romantic hero.

"Hey," Jared greets him with a welcoming gesture. "Come on in and help yourself to a drink. I've just got a few emails I need to finish."

Jared's warmth puts Jensen at ease. Or maybe it's the whiskey. Either way, Jensen manages to cross the room to the fancy tray of glasses and decanters, pours himself a drink, and joins Adele in an armchair by the fire. The collie lifts his head, watches him for a minute, and Jensen leans forward to give him a pat.

"Who's your friend?" he asks, and Adele glances up at him, then at the dog.

"His name's Buck," Jared supplies helpfully. "Follows Adele just about everywhere, now that he's too old to work cattle."

Jensen nods, murmurs, "Hey, Buck," to the dog, who wags his tail once before putting his head back down on his paws as Jensen leans back in his chair.

"What'r'ya reading?" he asks conversationally, and Adele puts the book down and looks up at him, big dark eyes round and solemn. She considers him silently for a minute, then tips the spine of the book up so he can see it. It's a book of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales. 

"Wow," Jensen nods. "Those are a little dark, aren't they? Not really for kids."

Adele frowns, pushes her lips out in a pout and lowers her head to her book again, obviously deciding Jensen's comment is unworthy of an answer.

"She likes the story of The Little Mermaid," Jared explains. "The girl who sacrifices her voice and walks on knives so she can have her heart's desire. Of course, he's only in love with her beautiful voice, so things don't go so well."

Adele shoots her uncle an impatient look, and Jared ducks his head penitently.

"Sorry," he offers. "Didn't mean to give it away."

"I liked _Treasure Island_ when I was your age," Jensen says. "Pirates. And _Tom Sawyer._ Tom was kind of a rascal. You read _Tom Sawyer_?"

Adele shakes her head, and Jensen nods. "Maybe we can read that one together," he suggests. "It's not so...morbid."

They're saved from further discussion by Mrs. Fairfax and Mary arriving with trays of steaming food. Mary is a plump, motherly woman with soft gray hair, who welcomes Jensen with a hug after she's put down the food.

"We're so glad you're here, Mr. Ackles," she gushes. "This house is too gloomy and quiet for a little girl all by herself. She needs a young companion."

"I'll do my best, Mrs. Hunt," Jensen says. He's on his feet, helping the women unload their trays, and Mary smiles approvingly and pats his cheek.

"And a gentleman, too," she comments with a nod. "Aren't you polite. And handsome. Isn't he handsome, Adele?"

Adele glances at Jensen, shrugs, puts her book down as she joins the adults at the table.

"And you can call me Mary," she finishes as she unloads the last of her tray. "Everybody does."

"I've already explained to Mr. Ackles that we like to keep a certain level of formality around here," Mrs. Fairfax notes curtly as Jared rises to pull her chair out for her, helps her sit before taking his own seat at the head of the table. Jensen slips in beside Adele, across from Mrs. Fairfax. Mary winks at Jensen from behind Mrs. Fairfax's back, then mouths, "Mary!" and points to herself as she slips out of the room.

Mrs. Fairfax insists Jared say grace, which he does with closed eyes and folded hands, not that Jensen's watching or anything. When Jared opens his eyes he's staring straight at Jensen, like he could feel Jensen looking at him, and for a moment the dark, brooding expression in Jared's eyes sends a thrill almost like fear through Jensen's body.

"Potatoes, Mr. Ackles?" Mrs. Fairfax offers, passing him a bowl of steaming carbs. Jensen's hungrier than he realized, so he lets Mrs. Fairfax offer him plate after plate of steamed vegetables, more of the excellent beef like last night, a fresh tossed salad and fruit. By the time dessert is served Jensen is stuffed, and tired. His legs are aching from today's ride, and when Mrs. Fairfax finally gets up and takes Adele to bed, Jensen almost wishes he could go too.

But now he's alone again with Jared, and there are beginning to feel like very few things exist on this earth that could possibly draw him away from that.

"So I'm guessing you're not a believer, Jensen," Jared suggests as they settle in the armchairs on either side of the hearth, after-dinner brandies in their hands. "I'd offer you a cigar, but Mrs. Fairfax would kill me, quite literally, if we smoked in her house."

Jensen smiles, nodding. "I totally understand. And no, I'm not. Although I guess I'm not an unbeliever, either. Somewhere in between, maybe."

Jared nods, brooding. His mood during dinner seemed dark again, like it was when Jensen first met him yesterday, and it puzzles Jensen. The man seems so mercurial, prone to wild swings of temperament, and Jensen wonders if manic-depression runs in the family, if maybe Adele is suffering from something similar.

"I believe God has plans for all of us," Jared continues, his eyes on the fire. "And some of us get to be the butt of His sick jokes."

Jensen takes a deep breath, looks into the fire to avoid watching the gloomy expression on Jared's beautiful face. "I guess it seems like that sometimes," he agrees with a shrug. "But something tells me, if there is a God, he's got better things to do than to come up with ways to punish us."

Jared smiles, but it's a grim smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "You might think that, but look at the hand he's dealt you. Kills your parents, sends you to live with that crap aunt and uncle who abuse you and dump you first chance they get, then you live on the street for – how long was it? Two years? And the foster system in between couldn't have been fun. More abuse, I'm guessing. I don't know, Jensen. Sounds pretty punishing, if you ask me."

Jensen considers the fact that Jared has looked so deeply into his background, wonders if it's something he should worry about. If there's one thing he learned from those years on the streets, it's that rich men like Jared who hire poor boys like Jensen usually have something else in mind besides just giving them a warm bed to sleep in and a couple of hot meals.

Jensen's not on the street anymore, he reminds himself. He's been hired to help Adele, and he's got a college degree and real work experience that qualifies him to do that, even if it's not the top degree in the field.

Which is when he gets it. "You hired me partly because you think I'm a survivor," he suggests. "You think my background makes me uniquely qualified to help Adele."

"She's had a rough time, since her parents died," Jared agrees. "I don't know if you've heard the details of the accident, but she was trapped in the car with her dying parents after the crash. For almost twelve hours. She watched them die."

"Is that when she stopped talking?" Jensen says softly, horrified, and Jared nods.

They sit silently for a few moments, watching the fire.

"I'm starting to think you have a special gift for listening, Jensen," Jared says finally. "You have a kind of sensitivity about you that makes people want to open up. I feel like you hear me when I talk to you, like you get things about what I say to you that I'm not even aware of conveying. I feel like I can say things to you that I've never said to anyone, and you'll understand me."

Jared dips his head, grinning broadly, and Jensen can see the flush on the balls of his cheeks, the tip of his nose. He's blushing, Jensen realizes, mesmerized. It's endearing and startling at the same time; Jared comes across as such a control freak, as someone who is so used to the burden and responsibility of being the boss, that to see him lose it a little is kind of amazing. And hot, of course.

Jensen realizes he's staring when Jared finally lifts his head, meets his eyes with a look that's strangely hopeful, almost pleading.

"I hope we can do this every evening, Jensen," he says. "I like talking to you like this. It's really comforting."

"Of course," Jensen nods. "We can go over the day, I can give you updates on Adele's progress." He's not sure why he's feeling disappointed, like he was hoping Jared wanted more from him than just to be a good listener.

"You're like a balm on my tortured soul, Jensen," Jared says melodramatically, and Jensen can't help grinning, ducking his head. "I know it sounds stupid, but I mean it. It's like you're here to help _me,_ not just Adele."

Jensen keeps his head down, hiding his blush, and that's when he feels it; Jared's fingers lightly brushing his as Jared leans forward in his chair, touches Jensen's knee where his hand rests. Jensen looks up, heart suddenly pounding desperately, and Jared is right there, inches away, pink cheeks and damp lips and expressive eyes close enough to touch. To kiss. If Jensen leaned in, he could taste that pink mouth, find out if it's as soft as it looks.

"I want us to be friends, Jensen," Jared's mouth is saying, and Jensen realizes he's been staring at it. He licks his lips, forces his eyes up to Jared's. "Is that okay with you? Can we be friends?"

"Of course," Jensen breathes automatically, realizes he was holding his breath from the moment Jared touched him. For another moment they're just gazing into each other's eyes, and Jensen is sure, just sure, that Jared wants to kiss him, that Jared is feeling this thing between them as powerfully as Jensen is.

Which is why it's beyond disappointing when Jared finally breaks the gaze, pulls his hand away and leans back in his chair.

"Good," he says, nodding, staring into the fire again. "That's really good, Jensen. Thank you."

They sit in companionable silence for another five minutes, during which Jensen feels a little shell-shocked. His mind races over all the looks and gestures of the past twenty-four – no, make it thirty – hours since he met Jared, and he's certain he's getting all the signals right. So what's holding Jared back? Why doesn't he give into the attraction the way Jensen wants him to? Is it their age difference? The difference in their incomes? Is it because Jared's his boss?

Okay, that last one's kind of a big one. It kind of tips the balance of power a little too much, makes this whole thing a little too much like those times Jensen got picked up by rich guys in their fancy cars. And that is not okay, because this is nothing like that, and Jensen wants to make that perfectly clear to Jared, if Jared would just give him half a chance –

"Good night, Jensen." Jared gets up, lays his hand on Jensen's shoulder briefly as he passes behind him to the door and leaves the room. Jensen sits alone for a few more minutes until he's sure Jared's safely closed up in his room before Jensen gets up to follow, not needing to watch Jared's perfect ass moving away from him, knowing he can't tap that.

Not yet, anyway.

*//*

A low moaning sound wakes him sometime after midnight; it goes on and on, even after Jensen is fully awake, staring blankly at the ceiling in the dark, sure he's not dreaming this time. He considers getting up, following the sound so he can determine its source, but then it stops, as abruptly as it did last night, and he drifts back to sleep instead, promising himself he'll ask about it in the morning.

"Oh, that's Grace Waters," Mrs. Fairfax explains matter-of-factly in the morning, when Jensen is seated in the dining room with Adele, finishing off yet another plate of eggs and toast and more fresh fruit. "She lives on the third floor. She's a little touched in the head, and she's up a lot at night. If she's bothering you, we could move you to a room in the other wing of the house."

"No, no, that's okay," Jensen says quickly, briefly panicking at the thought of being further away from Jared. "I just hope she's all right. She sounds pretty unhappy."

"I don't think she suffers much, really," Mrs. Fairfax says. "Sometimes she sleep-walks, though, so you might want to lock your door at night."

Jensen considers this. "Is she dangerous?"

"Oh, I don't know about dangerous," Mrs. Fairfax starts clearing plates, keeping her eyes on her work. "But in her confusion she might wander into your room and try to get into your bed, which could be a little embarrassing, I suppose."

"Okay, I'm convinced," Jensen's eyes widen and he puts his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Locked door from now on."

But after another week without hearing the mournful moans in the night, Jensen forgets all about it. Life in the Padalecki household finds a new rhythm now that Jensen's joined it. He and Adele do lessons in the mornings, working from home-schooling textbooks Jared purchased before Jensen's arrival. The afternoons are spent walking, riding, playing tennis or swimming, if the heat gets too bad. Jensen's mother was a huge proponent of exercise as a cure-all for everything, and he makes sure Adele gets plenty of it. She shows off her skills as a dancer and a gymnast every chance she gets, and at Jensen's suggestion she goes into town once a week for lessons, allowing Jensen a little time off the ranch, which does both of them good. On Sundays they all go to town for church, where Jensen is introduced to the young minister, Reverend Collins, who takes Jensen's hand in both of his and looks so deeply into his eyes he feels like the man can see into his soul. After church the family goes out to brunch at a local hotel, where Jared knows all the staff and they're treated like royalty. It's a little embarrassing for Jensen, but fascinating, too. The locals are very down-to-earth, plain-spoken folk, who take Jared's regular patronage for granted and welcome Jensen like he's part of the family. Watching Jared interact with people outside his family is a revelation to Jensen; his down-home charm and loose-limbed, energetic persona seems such a stark contrast to the unhappy, brooding man Jensen sees at home too often, and he has to wonder if the ranch itself isn't the source of Jared's darkness.

Jensen tries not to think how much he looks forward to every evening, after Adele goes to bed, when he and Jared sit by the fire, usually outside on the patio as they did the first night, sipping whisky and smoking cigars and watching the stars. Jared talks, Jensen listens, and Jensen can't help hoping it's helping Jared, even just a little, to have someone to talk to. Jensen's also aware that his feelings for Jared have only intensified, deepened, as the weeks go by, until he's pretty sure he's in love with the man, probably always will be. At a certain point, maybe two or three weeks into their relationship, Jensen has to admit Jared is the wiser of the two. Jumping into bed that first day might have been incredibly good, and they might've fallen in love anyway, but Jensen is pretty sure that taking it slow has given them a chance to get to know each other without complicating their feelings for each other with sex right off the bat, and that's probably a good thing. At least Jensen's sure his feelings are real, after a couple of months, not just sex-fueled fantasies.

Not that he's stopped having those, even for a second. But getting to know Jared, the way his mind works, as dark and desperate as it is sometimes, Jensen is convinced he's a genuinely good man. There's a generosity of spirit, not just of purse, although Jared's a well-known philanthropist, just as his parents were, and he contributes extensively to social and educational causes, as well as continuing his parents' work building hospitals and schools in poverty-torn nations. He travels regularly to the places where his good works are being done, supervising and being directly involved as much as possible.

"This is the longest he's stayed home in years," Mrs. Fairfax comments over breakfast one morning, when Jensen asks about an article in the newspaper about an orphanage that Jared founded in Haiti. "Usually he's off visiting those places, and he's gone for months sometimes. I don't know why he's staying home so long this time."

Jensen thinks he does, but it's something he doesn't dare to verbalize, even to himself.

Because he understands, or thinks he does, why Jared is holding back, not giving into the powerful urges they both feel. But he also thinks he's breaking Jared down; he thinks Jared's been finding it harder and harder to keep his hands off Jensen. There are definite chinks in the armor Jared has wrapped around himself on account of their relative positions as employer and employee. At least that's what Jensen thinks it is, can't imagine another reason for Jared's little desperate glances, the pleading looks he gives Jensen sometimes, like he's barely holding himself back from ravishing the young tutor right there on the rug in front of the fire, like he needs Jensen's help to control the beast inside. The beast is barely contained lately, Jensen can feel it; it's being held by a thin rope now, no longer the strong chains of Jared's earlier determination. The little touches have become more frequent – the brushes of Jared's fingers against his, the lingering pats on his shoulder, on his back, the way Jared lets his knee rest against Jensen's when they're sitting together, just leaving it there.

Then the night comes when they've both had a little too much to drink, and Jared proposes they drive up to the observatory.

"I've got a key," he says. "The stars are brilliant here, but wait till you see them with the telescope they've got up there."

It's probably not the best idea, letting Jared get behind the wheel of a pick-up truck, and there's a few times when they're driving up the winding, barely-paved road to the observatory when Jensen is sure they'll go right over the edge and roll into the ravine. But they make it, and of course it's deserted, just happens to be a night the staff have off. They stumble into the building, giggling like schoolboys, and Jared leads them straight up the stairs to the observation deck. It feels like breaking into a school, like the kind of thing Jensen used to do when he was twelve or thirteen, when he and his pals from the hood would steal beer from home, break into their own school, drink and smoke in the gym and play a little basketball if they could find a ball, just being stupid.

When Jared gets the telescope lined up just right he turns out the lights, beckons Jensen to "Look at this. Come on."

Jensen takes his glasses off and puts his eye to the scope. What he sees takes his breath away.

"It's Andromeda," Jared explains, and his voice is close, right next to Jensen's ear. Jensen tries not to let the feel of Jared's body right there, pressed along his back, his lips practically touching Jensen's ear, get to him. Really, he does. He's been practicing for almost three months now, not letting Jared's presence affect him. Failing miserably, of course, but at least he's been trying, and at least this isn't the first time. But now Jared's pressed against his back, his arms reached around to hold the telescope in the right position, as if the thing weren't completely automated, as if there was really a need for Jared to adjust it with his hands.

Maybe it's the drinks, maybe the setting, maybe Jensen's got his timing just right. All he knows is that when he slips his hand up against Jared's warm cheek, pressed almost right against his, then leans back so he's pressed against Jared's body, Jared lets him. And when he turns his head so he can nose along Jared's jaw, then press his lips against Jared's stubble, Jared goes very still. He huffs out a shaky sigh as Jensen's tongue slips out to taste the sensitive skin just below Jared's ear, suckling there as he turns his body around, slowly, keeping his mouth on Jared's neck, replacing his left hand with his right, keeping Jared's face right there till Jensen's turned all the way around, slipping his other arm around Jared's waist, holding him in place. They stand like that for a moment, pressed as tightly together as two people can be, Jensen's mouth working its way along Jared's jaw to his chin, kissing the little mole, the corner of Jared's mouth, seeking those pink lips blindly with his own.

Then, in that last moment when this thing could still go either way, Jared tips his face down, tilts his mouth just right so that when their lips meet it's Jared who's in control, Jared who finally – finally! – makes the move, locks their mouths together. Then it's like a coil has been unsprung and suddenly Jared's hands are everywhere. Jared's teeth are clacking against Jensen's and it's rough and desperate and he's just holding on as Jared mauls him, gasping, grinding his hips against Jensen's, huge hands holding his ass so Jared can rut frantically. Then the hands are holding his head so Jared can plunder his mouth, parting his lips so wide his jaw hurts as Jared thrusts his tongue practically down Jensen's throat. 

He's vaguely aware of things crashing to the floor – metal clipboards, lens cases, tools, Jensen's glasses – as Jared hoists him onto a narrow counter, pushing his back against the wall so Jared has the leverage he needs to grind his pelvis against Jensen's, to spread Jensen's legs and pull one of them around Jared's waist, holding it there with his big hand as he thrusts, rubbing their dicks together through their jeans. It's nowhere near perfect, it's messy and uncomfortable and rushed, but they're both too desperate to take the time to remove clothing, to find a more comfortable position, to even get their hands on much bare skin. But the angle is enough for them both to get the friction they need, and Jensen's brain provides the images of Jared's naked body that send him crashing right over the edge, tensing and digging his fingers into Jared's back, tipping his head back against the wall and punching out Jared's name as he comes.

"Jen! Fuck!" Jared sobs as his own orgasm rips through him. Jensen holds him, trembling and sweating and panting as he comes down, thrusting weakly through the aftershocks. He runs his fingers through Jared's hair, finding it just as silky and soft as he had imagined. He rubs gentle circles into Jared's back, waiting patiently for Jared to lift his face out of Jensen's neck, for his breathing to even out.

When Jared finally lifts his head, blinking dazedly at Jensen, Jensen grins tentatively at him.

"Hot," he comments. "I think I broke my glasses."

"Oh–" Jared frowns, shuffling back a little so Jensen can slide down off the counter, however awkwardly. "Oh shit, Jensen. I'm sorry. Oh shit. Where are they?"

Jensen moves gingerly once he's on his feet again, forcing himself to ignore the uncomfortable mess in his jeans, the soreness in his thighs and back where he's pretty sure he's got a good rug-burn going. He drops to his knees and feels around on the floor, finds bits and pieces of metal and glass, manages to cut himself (of course!) before finding the damn glasses. By the time he puts them on and climbs to his feet again, Jared has cleaned up most of the scattered tools and clipboards, putting them back on the counters. He doesn't look at Jensen, just stares at the floor and clears his throat awkwardly as he shifts from one foot to the other and oh hell no, he does not get to pretend this didn't just happen.

"Jared," Jensen starts toward him, determined to put a stop to Jared's obvious decision to just negate the whole thing.

Jared lifts his eyes, and they're full of warning, full of a kind of animal desperation, like Jared's feeling trapped and he's silently begging Jensen not to kill him.

"Jay," Jensen tries again, shaking his head. "Come on, man. Don't do this."

Jared's eyes darken, he clenches his jaw and shakes his head once.

"We need to get home," he says, his voice hard, like he's steeling himself. Then he turns his back on Jensen, starts down the stairs.

"Jared, don't you do this," Jensen shouts again, suddenly furious, more angry than he can ever remember feeling. "Don't pretend this didn't happen. Don't you dare!"

The door slamming down below as Jared leaves the building is the only response he gets.

"Fuck!" Jensen yells at the empty room, looks for something to throw, sees evidence of what happened here in the broken and scattered tools and clipboards on the counter, decides against it.

"Damn it!" he mutters through clenched teeth as he starts down the stars after his boss, who clearly decided this was a bad idea, who clearly can't imagine having a grown-up, consensual relationship with someone who works for him.

"Asshole," Jensen declares as he stalks out the door, slamming it behind him.

Jared is already in the truck, staring straight ahead out the windshield with the engine already running. Jensen stalks determinedly to the passenger side door, yanks it open, glares at Jared until Jared finally looks at him, his face all set until the minute he sees Jensen's anger and his features collapse into a look of abject pain so profound it takes the wind right out of Jensen's sails. Jared looks away quickly, but not before Jensen sees the tears in his eyes.

"Get out of the truck, Jared," Jensen commands, more softly than he would have a minute ago. But now that he can see the kind of anguish Jared's obviously experiencing, he's suddenly not angry anymore.

"I–I can't," Jared's voice is shaking. But his hands drop off the wheel, fall palms-up onto the seat next to him in a gesture of defeat.

"Then just–turn off the engine," Jensen tries again. "We need to talk."

"No," Jared protests, choking up. "Please, Jensen. I can't. Please don't make this worse than it is. I should never – we shouldn't have – "

"Oh no," Jensen interrupts, shaking his head. "You don't get to say that. This isn't something you can just ignore or make go away, Jared. This has been brewing since the day we met, and you know it. It's not something you get to just walk away from and pretend it never happened. Now turn off that engine and talk to me, or I'm gonna climb in there and do it myself."

Jared huffs out a breath, clenches his jaw stubbornly, but he does it. He turns off the engine, sits pouting for all the world like a two-year-old waiting to be scolded.

"Now, get out of the truck," Jensen insists.

Jared rolls his eyes and sighs, but he does that too, climbs out, shuts the door, crosses around in front of the truck so he's facing Jensen.

"There," he grouses, hands on his hips, all moody, rebellious teen-ager now. "You happy?"

"Maybe," Jensen raises an eyebrow speculatively, wondering when he started being the adult in this relationship. "If you start talking, telling me what you think we're doing here."

"What do you want me to say, Jensen?" Jared raises his arms in a giant gesture of helplessness, long arms making him look like a bird about to take flight. "You want me to tell you I'm in love with you, is that it? That this is going somewhere because love conquers all? Despite the fact that I'm ten years older than you and a washed up, bitter old guy with a fucked up life I can't possibly share with you?"

"Why not?" Jensen demands, trying to focus because his mind is still caught back on the "I'm in love with you" line.

"Because you're young and beautiful and you've got your whole life ahead of you, for starters," Jared snorts, running his hand through his hair. "Because you don't need some old guy who's got more baggage than a fuckin' freight train weighing you down, holding you back."

"Why does this have to be so heavy, Jared?" Jensen blinks at him, genuinely confused. "We've only known each other for a few months, man. We've got plenty of time to figure out where we want this thing to go. We're still getting to know each other. Why does it have to be all or nothing with you?"

"Because," Jared stops pacing, stops shifting his feet, stares at Jensen with an intensity that sends shivers up Jensen's spine. "I don't want some summer romance. I don't need some spring fling. I'm thirty-two years old, Jensen. Ready to settle down. I have a child to raise. And you're not ready to give me what I really want from you. You're just not."

"How do you know that?" Jensen demands, ignoring his pounding heart, his sweating palms, the way his whole body trembles under Jared's intent gaze.

"Because you're twenty-two years old, Jensen," Jared shakes his head. "When I was twenty-two, I was a total idiot. I made stupid mistakes and I regretted the hell out of them later. I'm not going to be your biggest mistake, Jensen."

"Pretty sure I'm the one who gets to decide that," Jensen notes hotly. "And I'm pretty sure the biggest mistake I could make right now is letting you walk away from this. From us. So you can either man up right now and face this thing, let us see where it takes us, or you can fire me and send me packing right now."

Jensen pauses, letting that sink in; it shakes him to the core to say it, makes him want to take it back immediately, but he knows he's right. He knows it's the only way to get through to Jared, to force him to face the choice and to own it for himself.

"Tell me to go, Jared," he repeats. "That's the only way this ends. Otherwise, we deal with it. You got me?"

Jared shifts his feet, hands on his hips; he looks at the ground, glances up at Jensen's face, set as grimly and stubbornly as he can make it, then huffs out a bitter laugh.

"You don't know what you're saying," he shakes his head, staring at the ground again.

"Maybe," Jensen acquiesces. "I don't have a lot of relationship experience, I'll be the first to admit that. But I'm willing to take the risk, to see where this goes, where it takes us."

"I'm not a good person, Jensen," Jared shakes his head again, slowly. "You might not like what you see, when you get to know me."

"I'm willing to take that chance," Jensen insists.

"I can't," Jared shakes his head. "I'm too old to start over. I can't –" He pauses, bites his lip, looks away for a minute, and Jensen can see he's fighting back tears. He swallows hard, blinking at something in the distance, in the darkness to Jensen's left.

Jensen waits, holding his breath, not wanting to push.

"You're so good, Jen," Jared takes a deep breath, lets it out. "You're like the light that went out of my life years ago, come back to haunt me, come back to tempt me. You make me feel again when I thought I was dead inside. I want – I want you like a moth wants the flame, knowing it'll be the death of him. It's wrong and selfish and fucked up..." Jared takes another breath, lets his eyes lift to Jensen's for a moment, then flick away again, his cheeks flushed pink in the stark light of the truck's headlights. "You should leave now, Jensen, while you still can, because I'm warning you, if you don't, I can't be responsible for what happens. I mean, I'll be responsible, it'll be my own fucking fault, but I – what I want from you, if I really let myself think about it too much – "

"Okay, that's enough," Jensen cuts him off, moving instinctively and without forethought so that suddenly he's in Jared's space, his hand in Jared's hair, holding the back of his neck while his other hand cups Jared's perfect jaw, thumbs along his cheekbone to his lips, skims along them slowly, rhythmically. He tips Jared's huge head down so their foreheads are touching and holds it there, breathing deeply as he stills his own pounding heart. "That's enough for now, okay? We're gonna be okay. We're gonna get through this, and it'll be okay. Promise."

He's soothing Jared and he doesn't even know why; it just feels right, like it's what he was meant to do. And he's so in love with the man it's not even funny. Like there was ever any way he could walk away from this, now that he's found it.

Their kisses this time are slow, tentative at first, then passionate with promise, desperate and tearful on Jared's part. Jensen pulls back when he tastes Jared's tears, swipes his thumbs under his eyes, holding his face so he can kiss the tears off his cheeks as Jared smiles with his eyes closed, all teeth and dimples.

"I want this so much it scares me, Jen, that's the thing," Jared whispers. "I'm so scared right now."

"Shhh," Jensen soothes, kissing along Jared's jaw as fresh tears squeeze out under his closed lids, slide down his cheeks. "You'll be fine."

He pulls back and waits till Jared opens his eyes, blinks at him with an expression so wounded and vulnerable it hurts. "You know what I'm scared of right now?" Jensen asks. "Getting these jeans off. If we don't hit the showers pretty soon, we may have to cut them off. And that would be embarrassing."

Jared grins all over himself again, nods, pulls back reluctantly, holding onto Jensen's hand until the last possible moment, brushing a soft kiss across his knuckles before letting go, heading back to the truck.

They drive back to the ranch in silence, shooting quick glances at each other every mile or so, making each other smile shyly. As soon as they're in the house, Jared's self-control returns; he's the master of this place, and the power and responsibility just radiate off of him. The house is dark and quiet as they climb the staircase to their rooms, and in the hushed silence Jared backs Jensen up against his door, kisses him sweetly, holding him steady with his big hands, and Jensen feels young and cared for again. When Jared releases him, stares intently into his eyes and says, "I'll see you in the morning," Jensen feels only a little disappointed. Of course they need to be careful, need to ease into this cautiously and with consideration for the other members of the household, who may be a little shocked to find out the master is fucking the young tutor.

Because Jensen's fairly confident that's the way this is gonna go. Just not tonight.

// *

Jensen wakes sometime later to the smell of smoke.

He blinks awake, trying to orient himself. The smell is definitely coming from inside the house, and it's getting stronger. He reaches up and to the bed-side table and turns on the light, frowning. The house is still, quiet and hushed as it was when he went to bed; it's still the darkest part of the night, right before dawn.

Tendrils of smoke are snaking under his door.

Jensen gets up quickly, pads across the room to his door, and opens it. The hallway is hazy with smoke, and it only takes a minute to realize it's coming from under Jared's door. Then time seems to slow down as Jensen grabs Jared's doorknob, finds it locked.

"Jared!" he pounds on the door, yelling urgently but gets no answer. The smoke is getting thicker. Jensen shoves his shoulder against the door, pushes with all his strength but the door won't budge so he backs up, across the hall, takes a flying leap, flinging all of his weight against the door, managing only to shake it a little.

Adrenaline kicks in and he uses his legs this time, backing up to give himself some leverage, then lands a crushing kick on the wood, right next to the lock. It gives way with a crash, taking much of the frame with it, but Jensen only has a second to be grateful because Jared's room is full of smoke and flame and Jared is lying on the bed, unconscious or dead, Jensen doesn't take time to consider, just bursts through the door to his boss's bedside, yelling his name as he grabs his arms, hauls him up in a fireman's carry and gets him out into the hall as men come running, shouting orders. Jensen carries Jared down to the end of the hall to the head of the stairs, where the air is clearer, then lets Jared's body slide to the floor, pressing two fingers to Jared's carotid artery. Jared's eyes flutter open as Jensen finds his pulse, steady and strong. He frowns dazedly, focusing on Jensen's face, then his eyes widen as he registers where he is, taking in what's happened.

"Your room was on fire," Jensen explains. "I got you out. Looks like John and his crew already put the flames out."

Jared starts to struggle, to get up, and Jensen grabs his shoulders, holding him down, slipping one hand along his jaw to get Jared to look at him.

"Whoa, whoa, hold up a minute," Jensen protests as Jared slumps back down, staring around wildly. "What happened, Jay? Did you fall asleep with a cigar in your hand?"

Jared focuses on Jensen again, and his features relax a little, his eyes lose their wild look.

"Yeah," he looks away, and Jensen has the distinct feeling he's being lied to. "Yeah, that's what happened. I'm an idiot."

Jensen stares at him, disbelieving and more than a little horrified, indignant because he can't imagine why Jared would lie to him about something like this, although he's pretty sure that's what's happening. 

Jensen drops his hand from Jared's face and sits back on his heels. "Damn right you're an idiot," he growls angrily. "You almost got yourself killed, not to mention burning the house down. Jesus."

"You alright, Mister Jared?" John steps up next to Jensen, peering down with real concern creasing his usually stoic features.

"Yeah," Jared nods, reaching up to grab Jensen's shoulder so he can pull himself up to standing, leaning half on Jensen, half on the wall behind him. "I'm fine. How bad is the damage?"

"Well, you won't be sleeping again in that room for awhile," John shakes his head. "But the fire was pretty much contained right there. A little smoke damage in the hall maybe, nothing that can't be fixed."

"Thanks, John. You and the boys go on back to bed," Jared commands. "I'll finish out the night in one of the guest rooms." He glances at Jensen, looks away again. "You too, Jensen. Get some sleep."

"Oh yeah, like that's happening after you almost burned yourself to death right next door," Jensen huffs, still feeling the sting of Jared's weird fabrication.

Jared raises his eyes to Jensen's, and they're full of such raw pain and despair it makes Jensen wince. "You're right," he nods. "Sleep with me."

"What?" Jensen is so startled he can't be sure he's heard right. Jared is propositioning him? Now?

"Life is short, Jen, you said it yourself," Jared says. "When something like this happens, I'm reminded how short it really is. We never know if we're gonna be alive tomorrow."

"Are you giving me a last-night-on-earth line?" Jensen stares. _Really?_

Jared huffs out a breath, rolls his head in a gesture of frustration that practically breaks Jensen's heart. "All I know is, you're important to me, Jensen, and I don't want to waste another moment pretending I should know how to live without you."

Jensen's jaw drops. "Now it sounds like you're proposing," he dips his chin, looks up at Jared with raised eyebrows, skeptical.

Jared sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him along the corridor and around the corner, into the west wing of the house until they reach what must be a guest room. Jared opens the door and pulls Jensen inside, closes the door behind them and turns the lock, then faces Jensen, and now they're alone, on neutral ground, in a room that isn't Jensen's, or Jared's, huge king-size bed an obvious beacon in the middle.

"None of us knows how long we've got on this earth, Jensen," Jared says, and if his eyes weren't full of tears Jensen might think he was joking. "I've been a fool for thinking I could resist you. I told myself I only wanted to keep you safe, not to suck you into the darkness of my life. But I'm weak, Jensen. I can't keep pretending."

He falls to his knees suddenly, literally fucking falls down on his knees in front of Jensen, and Jensen takes a startled step back because it's so insane, because he suddenly feels like he's in some kind of over-the-top romance novel or Life-Time movie. "What I feel for you...what I felt from the moment I saw you in my driveway that day...it's like you've cast a spell on me. I feel bewitched. I don't even know if I could survive without you. You're like a special brand of oxygen made just for me."

"Okay, you can get up now," Jensen's starting to feel a little freaked out. It occurs to him that there's something not quite right about Jared, that the root of his passionate nature is a kind of mental illness, a kind of madness. He reaches out a hand, ostensibly to help Jared up, but of course the older man just grabs it, pulling it against his face and closing his eyes, nuzzling a little into the palm of Jensen's hand.

"Forgive me, Jensen," Jared breathes, opening his eyes to stare up at Jensen, eyes still full of tears, pleading. "I know I'm not being fair to you. I know I'm springing this on you, and from your point of view, from the point of view of someone so young, this probably seems crazy. But I've lived long enough to know when I've found what I've been looking for. And I'm too selfish and weak to let it go."

Jensen stares down, trying to get control of his pounding heart, his conflicting emotions. He thinks he probably should be trying to convince Jared to sleep it off, to reassure him that things will look different in the morning, once they've both had a good night's sleep and the shock and adrenaline rush of their brush with tragedy has worn off a little. But part of him is convinced that Jared is being more honest than he's ever been at this moment, that Jensen's earlier quip about being proposed to isn't far off from what's actually happening here. And the wild and crazy thing of it is, Jensen doesn't mind as much as he probably should. The rational part of his brain is screaming, "Run away! This guy is out of his fucking mind! This is crazy!"

But Jensen's heart is screaming something entirely different.

"You can be a really scary bastard sometimes, Jay," Jensen says, sliding his hand along Jared's smooth cheek, freshly shaved after his recent shower. "But I don't want to lose you, either."

He drops to his knees in front of Jared, watching his beautiful face as his expression softens, as all the desperation and pain slides away, replaced by a gaze of such abject adoration it takes Jensen's breath away.

"Stop," he growls, leaning in to touch Jared's lips with his. "Just stop, okay? God."

Jared surges forward then, capturing Jensen's mouth in a searing kiss, taking Jensen's head in one huge, long-fingered hand, slipping the other arm around Jensen's body to pull their chests flush together, thrusting his hips against Jensen's, languidly at first, then more urgently as the kiss deepens. Jared tastes and smells like smoke, and the idea of losing him tonight, just after they finally found each other, finally admitted how they feel about each other – it overwhelms Jensen and he gets it, he really does, why Jared was behaving so emotionally before. The fact that Jared feels things so intensely, his ability to convey those feelings with such conviction, makes Jensen love him even more. It's never been something Jensen was very good at, expressing his feelings, but he's suddenly certain that his feelings are every bit as wild and untamed as Jared's. The thought of losing Jared tonight sears him with anguish, makes him crazy with need.

They're out of their clothes in record time, hands and mouths all over each other, everywhere. Neither of them were wearing much to begin with, so it doesn't take long. Jensen wants to take time to sit back and really look at Jared, just take in all those miles of tan skin and taut muscle, but Jared's naked skin rubbing against his has got him all revved up and he barely takes time to remove his glasses. He knows he won't last long, especially when Jared slips his hand down between their bodies and wraps his long fingers around Jensen's cock. Jensen flings his head back as his dick shivers, his balls pull tight. He comes hard with Jared's hand jerking him through it, with Jared's mouth on his arched throat, nipping and sucking, licking over the bruises he's making on Jensen's skin.

In the haze of his afterglow Jensen lets Jared guide him to the bed, pull back the covers and lets Jensen fall into the huge bed while Jared disappears into the bathroom for a washcloth. Jensen's almost asleep when he returns, lays a condom and a tube of lubricant on the bed. Jensen lies still with his eyes closed while Jared washes him off, then rolls him onto his stomach with a pillow under his hips, spreading Jensen's legs and ass for round two.

"Not done with you yet," Jared whispers as he climbs onto the bed and leans down over Jensen's back, nuzzles into his neck and tongues behind Jensen's ear. Jensen's so relaxed all he can do is lie there with his eyes closed, arms hugging the pillow, face buried and ass raised. Jared massages his shoulders, his back muscles, kisses down his spine, letting his tongue dip between each vertebrae to the small of his back, then into the crack between his ass-cheeks. Jared spreads Jensen wide, tonguing down his crack to his hole, making Jensen gasp and clench his hands in the sheets as Jared's tongue pushes inside. Jensen feels his spent cock start to twitch, trapped under him against the sheets, heat pooling in his belly as Jared works him open. He lifts his hips instinctively, pushes back against Jared's tongue, spreads his legs to give Jared more room to work. Jared's careful, but he's not a patient man, and his eagerness to get to the main event is obvious as he pushes first one, then two lubed fingers into Jensen alongside his thrusting tongue, ripping a long low moan from Jensen's throat as he hits his sweet spot. 

Jared kneels between Jensen's legs, his fingers thrusting and scissoring as he slides one huge hand over Jensen's hip, holding him still when Jensen tries to push back. When Jared's fingers pull out Jensen whines, and it would be embarrassing if he wasn't so relaxed, if everything didn't feel so good. He can hear the sound of a condom being opened, hears Jared grunt a little as he rolls the thing onto his dick, and it makes Jensen hard just thinking about Jared's cock, about how huge and angry-looking it must be right now. Jensen keeps his eyes closed and his face buried in the pillow he's hugging as the sounds of Jared lubing his cock sends shivers of lust up his spine. Then comes the feel of Jared's huge hand on his hip again, this time sticky with lube, and Jensen hisses involuntarily.

"Shhhh," Jared purrs softly as something – Jared's dick – presses against Jensen's entrance. "Gonna take care of you, sweet boy. Gonna do it right."

The bed shakes as Jared pushes, and the sensation is strange and verging on painful and then it is painful as Jared's cock breaches the tight muscle, making Jensen's insides cramp and his hole feel like it's being ripped open. Searing pain rips up his spine; he cries out and tries to scramble away, but Jared's got him pinned, one huge hand holding his hip as he guides himself in, kneading the tight muscle reassuringly.

"It's gonna be okay," Jared murmurs. "I've gotcha. Hang in there, just one more little inch..."

"Fuck! Oh God!" Jensen sobs as the sensation of being split apart continues, relentless and steady as Jared slides inside him. Just when he thinks he can't stand it, that he'll have to beg Jared to stop, something breaks, or Jared hits something, and warm sparks of pleasure shoot through Jensen's insides, ripple up his spine. He lets out a moan and pushes back, chasing after the sensation, and it happens again.

"That's it," Jared slides his hand up over Jensen's back, drags the tips of his fingers down Jensen's vertebrae. "Feels good, doesn't it? That's it, Jensen."

And just when Jensen thought he couldn't take anymore, that he must have two baseball bats shoved up his ass already, Jared gives a quick thrust and slams his hips against Jensen's ass, punching a deep, rough scream from Jensen's throat. _It's too much, he's too big, _Jensen's mind screams, _I can't take this!_ But he knows Jared has bottomed out, he can tell by the way Jared's panting and trembling, massaging his back with one hand, soothing.__

"So good, Jensen, you're so good for me," Jared murmurs, his voice sounding a little choked, a little breathless.

The pillow is wet, and Jensen realizes he's crying, has been for awhile, his body's natural response to the shock of this new experience. And just when he thinks his body is beginning to adjust, Jared starts moving.

"Oh God!" Jensen sobs as Jared's shallow thrusting hits that spot again, sending more sparks up his spine, all the way to the backs of his eyes, making him feel like he might black out. He grabs fistfuls of the pillow, kneading it as he rubs his face against his own arm. It feels like his back is being realigned, his insides are being permanently rearranged, as Jared thrusts a little harder, pulling out and going deep again, a little faster each time. Jensen holds on and sobs, his body trembling with painful pleasure, or pleasurable pain, he can't decide and really doesn't give a fuck. He tries to push back a couple of times, to try to participate in the coupling a little, but his legs are trembling and he can't hold himself up, and then Jared's hitting that spot over and over, punching little gasping cries out of Jensen's throat, making his dick so hard it's painful. He tries to get a hand on himself but Jared's right there too, jerking him off with one huge, lubed hand as he fucks into his ass.

"Come on, Jensen, that's it," he breathes, leaning down to kiss Jensen's neck, and that's just it. The feel of Jared's lips against his ear sends him over, crying out loudly as he comes, all pain giving way to the most intense pleasure Jensen's ever known, wave after wave just cresting and crashing till his head is swimming in dark, spine-tingling release that goes on and on and on.

As he starts to come back to himself he's aware of Jared withdrawing, turning him carefully over onto his back, then spreading Jensen's legs again, folding one leg back over his arm as he slips back inside Jensen's loose, fucked-out hole.

"Wanna see you," Jared breathes as he starts to thrust again. "Want to see your face when I come."

It's a different angle, and Jensen feels even fuller this way, and he's sure it would be painful if he wasn't already so well-stretched out, his body loose and relaxed after his orgasm. He blinks up at Jared, finds his face just inches away, sweat dripping off his brow, jaw clenched in concentration as he thrusts. He reaches up to cup Jared's cheek, runs his thumb along his cheekbone, then puts his thumb in his mouth and sucks, keeping his eyes on Jared's as he licks Jared's sweat off his own thumb.

"Oh fuck," Jared gasps, closing his eyes and going still, neck muscles clenched and gorgeous, face almost purple with strain. Jensen can feel Jared's dick swell, then twitch as he comes, and it's almost unbearably hot, watching the older man come undone, watching his beautiful face as the muscles begin working again.

"Jensen," Jared breathes as he opens his eyes, blinks blearily. His features soften, eyes glassy with tears as he comes down from his orgasm, pumping shallowly into Jensen's body for another minute. He leans down, captures Jensen's mouth, kisses him slowly and languidly as he wraps his arms around him, holding him against his chest with one hand holding the back of Jensen's head as he kisses him. The squelching sound as Jared's spent cock slips out of Jensen's body makes them both groan, and Jared lets out a low chuckle against Jensen's mouth as he releases him, planting soft, tender kisses along his jaw, nuzzling into his neck.

Jensen dozes, is only vaguely aware of Jared getting up, disposing of the condom, cleaning them up before climbing back into bed, scooping him into his long-armed embrace, holding him so Jensen's cheek rests against Jared's chest as Jared cards his fingers through Jensen's hair.

"That – that was your first time, wasn't it?" Jared suggests softly, his voice full of wonder.

Jensen nods against his chest and lets out a long contented sigh. Jared's skin is warm, almost hot, against Jensen's cheek, chest hair damp with sweat.

"But you – you were on the streets – "

"Never," Jensen growls curtly, then lifts his head to look up at Jared, meeting his eyes with what he hopes is a teasing smirk. "Learned to give pretty good head, though, in case you're interested."

"Jesus, Jen," Jared's face breaks out in a pink-cheeked blush, and it's adorable, that this should embarrass Jared, given what they've just done.

Jensen grins broader, places a smacking kiss on Jared's firm pec, then lets his tongue wander lazily over the pert brown nipple, making Jared gasp and arch his back, close his eyes. His pink lips part and Jensen reaches up to touch them, letting his finger slide along the bottom one, watching Jared's wanton expression with lazy fascination.

"I could teach you," Jensen suggests thoughtfully, and Jared's eyes fly open. He captures Jensen's finger with his lips, sucks it into the wet warmth of his mouth, suckles it a minute as he looks down at Jensen, heavy-lidded with lust and sheer exhaustion.

Which is when Jensen remembers what happened tonight. Before the thing that just happened.

"Hey," Jensen pulls his finger free, palms Jared's jaw and scoots up so he can plant a soft, almost chaste kiss on Jared's pink mouth. "Sleep now. Lots of time to figure this out later, okay?"

Jared nods, seeming suddenly younger again, less sure of himself, and Jensen reaches up to turn out the bedside table light, can't even remember who turned it on in the first place but figures it was probably him so he could have a place to lay his glasses. He snuggles down against Jared's ample chest, one leg tangled between Jared's, his arm low across Jared's torso, at his waist, gets comfortable right away because it just feels right somehow, and he knows instinctively that Jared's feeling the same way.

*//*

**Part Three:**

In the morning, when Jensen wakes up with the sun shining into the room because no one bothered to close the curtains the night before, Jared is gone.

He staggers out of bed, finds his tattered pajamas, and manages to limp down the corridor to his room to find some clothes. He's sore in places he doesn't want to think about too much, so he takes a long, hot shower before getting dressed, grateful for the fact that his room isn't reeking of smoke, like the hallway. Jared's room is a wreck, door broken and gaping, contents smoke-stained and ruined. Fortunately, Jensen's room seems to have escaped smoke-damage; the clothes in his closet still smell relatively fresh and clean, and he pulls them on quickly and heads downstairs to the dining room as he does every morning.

"Had a little excitement last night, I hear," Mrs. Fairfax comments as she lays the breakfast tray on the table, just like always. Adele looks up from her drawing, smiles shyly at him as he takes his plate from the tray, sits down to eat.

"Jay – Jared almost burned the house down," Jensen nods, smiling wryly at her as he takes a sip of his coffee. "Other than that, everything was fine." He lowers his eyes and busies himself with his meal in an effort to hide the flush he can feel creeping up his chest to his ears.

"Well, Mr. Jared's gone into town to find a contractor to rebuild his room," Mrs. Fairfax notes. "They'll be back before noon. Is your room all right?"

Jensen nods. "Just a distant smell of smoke," he says. "No real damage." Jensen squirms a little on the hard chair, trying to find a way to sit that doesn't make his ass ache, but he knows it's useless. Gonna be sore for at least a week, he's pretty sure.

"I'll have Leah go up and clean the rooms today," Mrs. Fairfax says, referring to the maid who comes twice a week to launder the sheets and towels in the bedrooms. Jensen's amazed sometimes by how many people Jared employs. He must contribute to a serious part of the economy in this part of Texas, with the number of full-time farm workers and part-time ranch-hands that come and go.

Jensen and Adele work quietly in the library till lunchtime. By that time a work crew has arrived, traipsing up and down the front hall and stairs with ladders and tool boxes, dragging out the ruined furniture, curtains, and carpet. After lunch Adele takes Buck out to her swing, where she can watch the workmen as they go in and out. Jensen knows she'll sit there for at least an hour, swinging back and forth as Buck sniffs around the area, then finally settles down on the grass close by where he can keep an eye on her.

Jensen goes looking for Jared, but it seems he stayed in town, didn't come back to the ranch with the crew. When he hasn't returned by evening, Jensen starts to worry. Last night was pretty intense; maybe Jared regrets it now, wishes he hadn't said the things he did. Jensen eats supper silently with Adele, accepts her good night kiss distractedly, watches as Mrs. Fairfax leads her off to bed. He finds himself pacing the back patio, where he and Jared sat and shared their first meal, restless and unable to relax. Endless stream-of-consciousness insecurities run through his head and he's hyper aware of how sore his body is, how real things are between him and Jared all of a sudden, achingly real. He's got the bruises and the sore ass to show for what happened last night, and if Jared is just running away and pretending it didn't happen –

The first stars are starting to appear when Jensen decides to take a walk. The grounds are huge, and after half an hour he finds himself back at the stables. The smell of hay and horseflesh soothes his jangled nerves, and he speaks quietly as he enters Scoot's stall, soothing hand on her flank, picks up a brush from the shelf. She raises her head and watches him, blows out and flares her nostrils as she picks up his scent, then nuzzles him for an apple or a carrot.

"Sorry, girl," he tells her sadly. "I didn't know I was gonna end up here tonight. Didn't come prepared."

She tosses her head a little, obviously disgusted with him, and snorts some more, but otherwise tolerates his brushing, which he suddenly feels the need to do. Being with horses always soothes Jensen. It was something Christian Kane figured out right away, giving Jensen lots of chores to do with the care and feeding of the large animals when he first arrived on Chris's farm, all those years ago. Jensen spent his first three months just mucking out stalls, filling water troughs, forking hay, brushing down the horses when they came in after a ride, hanging the saddles.

"What do you think, girl? You think Jared's sick of me already?" he says idly as he brushes. "You think he wishes he'd never met me?"

"Yeah, right," Jared's voice, coming from the other side of the stall, by the door, makes Jensen jump and blush to the tips of his ears. He's lounging against the wall, arms crossed, wearing his signature jeans with a plaid work-shirt and cowboy boots and hat, and it occurs to Jensen that he's been there all along, just hanging out with the horses, as Jensen's doing. Jensen watches warily as Jared uncrosses his arms, strides over and lays a soothing hand on Scoot's flank. She shivers a little, but otherwise ignores him. He obviously doesn't bring her treats, but she knows him well, tolerates him anyway.

"Scoot was my first real horse," he says as he pets her, runs his hand along her back as he moves up to her shoulder, so that he's standing facing Jensen, the horse between them. "I'd had Shetlands, but Scoot was my first grown-up horse. I was seven, and she was only three, but I rode her bareback all over the ranch, all day, for weeks. Years."

"She's old," Jensen notes, scratching gently behind her ears before starting to brush out her long, blond mane.

"Twenty-eight," Jared agrees. "She's the grand dame of the ranch now. Adele learned to ride on her."

"She's patient and steady," Jensen nods as he brushes, not looking at Jared but feeling his heat anyway. Jensen's trying to get his pounding heart under control, his body's reaction to Jared's proximity.

"She wasn't always so steady," Jared says, keeping his hands on Scoot's neck, her back. "She was pretty skittish as a colt, right up into her early adult years. That's why we called her Scoot. Her registered name is something more formal. I can't even remember it now because Scoot suited her so well. She was always a little wild, which is why she and I hit if off so well, right from the beginning."

"You like your horses a little untamed," Jensen teases without really meaning to, and he feels Jared looking at him, eyes dark and full of heat.

"I like to tame them," Jared agrees, his voice low and a little breathless suddenly. "I like to earn their respect."

Jensen raises his eyes to Jared's. "Not their love?" he asks. "You don't need their devotion?"

Jared's eyes crinkle as a blinding, dimpled grin spreads across his face. He ducks his head, looks back up at Jensen from under a lock of hair. "We're talking about horses here, Jensen, right?"

Jensen blushes to the roots of his hair, feels his chest and his ears burning, lowers his eyes and brushes Scoot harder. "It's okay, Jay," he mutters dismissively. "We don't have to talk at all. About horses or anything else. It's fine."

"What?" Jared raises his eyebrows, then frowns, all serious suddenly. "You think I don't want to talk?"

Jensen keeps brushing, watching his work so he doesn't have to look at Jared. "Well, since you've been gone all day, didn't call or text, after last night...I figured you'd had second thoughts."

"Second thoughts?" Jared huffs out a breath, his boots scraping the straw-covered floor irritably. "You thought I was avoiding you? Jesus, Jensen, if you think that...after last night..."

"What was I supposed to think, huh?" Jensen stops suddenly, glares at Jared because really, how could that big brain of his be so stupid? "All that talk last night about...well, all that talk, and what we did, and...I wake up this morning and you're just gone, Jay. You're gone and you don't call or text and...what the hell was I supposed to think?"

Jared opens his mouth, closes it again, multiple expressions flitting across his beautiful face as he takes in what Jensen's saying, sees his sudden unexplained absence from Jensen's point of view, after what happened between them the previous night. Finally he shakes his head, purses his lips, making his dimples show, and shifts his feet awkwardly till he's leaning on one hip, head ducked contritely.

"I'm sorry, Jen," he says softly. "I didn't think. I had to go into town to meet with my lawyer. I needed to get some things straightened out." He reaches into the front pocket of his jeans, pulls out a simple silver ring. "And I wanted to get this for you. It was my father's. It's not his wedding ring, but it's one he wore every day, according to everyone who knew him. I think it was special to him. I always thought, someday, I would find someone I could give it to. Now I have."

Jensen stares at him, then at the ring, not understanding. "You want me to...you're asking me to..."

"Well, it's Texas, so we can't get married, per se, but according to my lawyer, there's ways to join our assets so we'll get all the marital benefits, and you and Adele would inherit my estate if I died, and if you really want a wedding we can fly to Massachusetts, or California, pretty much anywhere, really..."

"You – you want me to marry you," Jensen states, clarifying in words what his heart can't seem to believe.

Jared's eyes soften and he gets that semi-pleading, helpless look that is so endearing in such a large man it's not even funny.

"If you'll have me," he nods. "I don't deserve you, Jensen, I know, but I – I'm in love with you, and I can't imagine my life without you in it. So, if you'll have me...?"

"I can't marry you. You're my boss," Jensen states flatly, citing the only objection that comes to mind, keeping his hands on Scoot's neck to keep them from trembling.

Jared's grin lights up the room, which is something that may have no basis in scientific reality but is simply the only way to describe the magic of Jared's smile, as far as Jensen can tell.

"Then I'll just have to fire you," Jared answers, ducking under Scoot's neck so he can crowd into Jensen's space, grab Jensen's left hand so he can slip the ring on. It fits. Of course it fits. "Say yes, Jensen. Say yes."

Jensen looks down at his hand and is overcome by the surreality of the situation, the heady fantasy fairy-tale atmosphere of the stable and the tall cowboy looking at him like he's everything. He stares up at Jared, feels tears stinging his eyes, and Jared's expression softens again. He slips his hand along Jensen's jaw and pushes up against him so Jensen's back is against the wall of the stall, tenderly removes Jensen's glasses and sets them aside, on the shelf beside the brush.

"Look at you," Jared breathes, gazing intently as he holds Jensen's face in his hands. "You're so, so beautiful." His eyes drop to Jensen's mouth and Jensen closes his eyes, lets Jared kiss him, lets Jared's lips trail along his jaw to his ear.

"Say yes," he whispers, and Jensen's whole body shudders with pleasure, with need. Jared kisses him again, deeper, plundering Jensen's mouth with his eager tongue, letting his hands roam down over his body, between his legs, squeezing his thickening cock through his jeans, making Jensen moan and tip his head back, freeing his mouth. Jared kisses down his neck, unbuttons his shirt so he can dip his tongue into the hollow of Jensen's throat, slips his hand around Jensen's waist to his ass, squeezes possessively.

"Say yes, Jensen," Jared pleads as he kisses back up Jensen's neck to his jaw, angles his mouth to Jensen's and suckles his lips, one at a time, before plunging his tongue between them again. 

"Say it!" he orders when he releases Jensen's mouth again, squeezing his ass for emphasis, slipping his long middle finger down Jensen's crack to rub at his hole, still sore from last night, through his jeans.

"Yes!" Jensen sobs, and the admission takes him over the edge, sends his orgasm coursing through him like a volcanic eruption, hot and uncontrollable. "God, yes," Jensen gasps as he rubs against Jared's leg, milking himself through the aftershocks. His limbs feel heavy, sodden, and he lets himself be half-carried out of the stall, laid down on a blanket in a soft pile of sweet-smelling hay, lets Jared undress him slowly and tenderly. He's sleepy and content and only half-aware as Jared washes him off, pulls another blanket over him, lies down beside him and scoops Jensen into his giant arms. Jensen passes out to the low rumble of thunder outside, Jared's sweat-soaked skin against his cheek, the salty taste of it in his mouth.

*//*

The rest of the week passes in a blur. Jared getting what he wants is a force that no one seems able to resist. It takes less than twenty-four hours for the entire household to find out that Jared and Jensen are together, will be tying the knot at some undetermined date in the future. Jared takes Adele aside the next morning during lessons, quietly explains that Jensen will be part of the family from now on, and she can call him Uncle Jensen, if she ever decides to speak again. She looks back and forth between them, huge dark eyes solemn, then she runs to Jensen and hugs him tight. Jensen pets her hair gently, shares a smile with Jared over her head, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Well, that went well," he notes to Jared as they're standing aside later while Adele practices the piano. "Wasn't sure how she'd feel about sharing you, since she's had you to herself for so long."

"Her family just doubled," Jared notes, running his hand down Jensen's back, curling his fingers around Jensen's waist. "And she likes you. You're good for her."

It's strange being with Jared now that everyone knows they're together, and Jensen's natural shyness leaves Jared to initiate pretty much all public displays of affection. It takes a couple of days for Jensen to adjust to being touched in front of other people, but Jared does it so easily, so comfortably, Jensen decides he can get used to it. It's an extension of Jared's boisterous, emotional character, the casual hand on the small of Jensen's back, the shoulder and neck rubs, the arm around his waist. He grabs Jensen's hand when he wants to show him something, or get him to come with him somewhere, and Jensen lets him, lets their hands tangle together. He's only ever held hands with his college girlfriend, an endlessly patient red-head named Danni, who finally recognized his preference for tall, dark, gangly men and downgraded her romantic interest in him to mere friendship. The hand-holding seems to make Jared ridiculously happy, and Jensen just doesn't have it in him to refuse. Jared seems to need to touch him constantly, now that he's allowed, and despite how horny it makes Jensen sometimes, he allows it because he can see how much it steadies Jared, how he needs the physical connection like a drug.

The whole household is affected by Jared's happiness. It's as if every window had been opened and the sun's shining into the house again. All traces of the sad, brooding man Jensen first met have been replaced by a joyous, constantly grinning giant with twinkling eyes, whose laughter booms out through the house at the slightest provocation. It would be a little unnerving if it wasn't so infectious. Jensen's face hurts by the end of the day from returning Jared's smiles, which is something he couldn't help doing if his life depended on it.

They discuss plans, and agree that they'll slip away to Massachusetts with Adele and Mrs. Fairfax for the wedding, then fly out to Martha's Vineyard, where Jared's parents bought a vacation home years ago. It'll be a honeymoon-slash-family vacation, and no one needs to know anything's changed when they get back to Texas except the immediate household, of course, who are sworn to secrecy because this is conservative West Texas and they really don't need the kind of attention they might attract here if word got out.

Things are working out so well that Jensen can't help worrying. It's an old habit with him, ingrained from the early days after his parents' deaths, when life seemed to dole out nothing but heart-ache and disappointment. He's learned to be suspicious of happiness, and he's reluctant to give into it now. In Jensen's experience, life rarely gave out good things without a price. Getting Jared and Adele and Padlock Ranch just seems a little too easy, too much of a happy-ending, according to the nagging little voice in the back of Jensen's head.

Which is why it doesn't surprise Jensen when the other shoe drops.

It happens about a week-and-a-half after their engagement (a word Jensen has trouble using for their promised union, even in his head). Jensen's so used to being woken in the middle of the night by Grace Waters' unearthly moans by this time that he doesn't even think much about it anymore, but this time when his eyes fly open there's someone else in the room. It takes him a moment to recall that Jared said he'd be back late, that he was meeting with the lawyer again and probably wouldn't return until after midnight. Then he sees it, a figure all in white, with long, tangled black hair framing a white face out of which huge, dark eyes stare at him with an expression so malevolent, so evil, it makes Jensen gasp. That's when he realizes she's carrying a knife, a huge, long handled blade that looks more like a small sword, really. As soon as she sees him staring at her she advances, raising the knife over her head swiftly and purposefully, so that there could be no doubt about what she's about to do with it.

Jensen rolls to the side at the last minute, managing to fling himself off the bed so fast he stumbles, still groggy from sleep, and falls hard, hitting his head on the night-table. He hears a gargling screech as the knife tears into the bed where he was just lying, then she's raising it and bringing it down again and Jensen panics, struggles to get up, bangs his head so hard he sees stars, then the world goes dark.

*//*

When he comes to he's in Jared's arms, on the floor of his room, and Jared is pressing a cool, damp cloth against his forehead and saying his name with an urgent tone in his voice that belies his gentle touch.

"Oh, thank God," Jared breathes as Jensen's eyes flutter open. He hugs Jensen against him, smashing Jensen's face into his massive chest, rocking back and forth like he's holding a baby. Jensen struggles to free himself, ignoring the pounding pain in his head as he struggles to sit up. He feels a little guilty when he sees Jared's tear-streaked face, realizes he passed out when he hit his head and Jared feared he was dead, which is just not okay.

"I'm fine, Jay, I'm fine," Jensen assures him, pressing one hand against his throbbing skull, finding a sizable lump there that's painful to touch. "What happened?"

Which is when he notices the bed. It's been ripped to shreds, the sheets hanging in strips off the edges, the pillows completely unrecognizable, feathers and stuffing everywhere. Then he remembers the apparition hovering over him with her long knife, swinging it down at him with every intention of slashing him to smithereens. He grabs Jared's sleeve, focuses as well as he can without his glasses.

"Where is she?" he demands, staring around wildly. "She attacked me. Where is she?"

"It's okay, Jensen, we got her," Jared assures him. "We heard the screams and got here just in time. John managed to wrestle the knife away from her, although he's probably gonna need stitches..."

"Jesus, Jay," Jensen stares at him. "You need to lock her up or something. She needs serious help."

"I know," Jared sighs. "We've had doctors and nurses and caregivers working with her for years. She gets better, then refuses her medications, then gets worse again. It's a vicious cycle. She needs lifelong care, and I'm doing everything I can to provide that, but it's not perfect. And now..."

"She's obviously not harmless, Jay," Jensen notes unnecessarily. "She probably needs to be somewhere they can watch her twenty-four-seven."

Jared shakes his head sharply, not meeting Jensen's eyes. "I promised," he says softly, almost sadly. "This is her home. I won't lock her up in some horrible place where they tie her down at night and stick needles in her to make her go to sleep. I can't do that."

"Jay, with your money, there must be someplace decent she can stay where she isn't a threat to people, someplace with staff who know how to handle somebody like her. It doesn't have to be like those awful places you see on t.v."

Jared shakes his head. "No," he says. "I've looked into it. Seriously, I have. There isn't."

"But you can't keep her in your home, Jared," Jensen insists, flabbergasted by Jared's strange stubbornness on this point. "She's a threat to your family. To Adele. How could you live with yourself if something happened to Adele? If Grace had broken into Adele's room tonight instead of mine?"

Jared lifts his eyes, shining with tears, full of misery. "I can't," he chokes out. "I can't, Jensen. Please don't make me explain."

"Explain what? Why can't you? What is wrong with you, Jared? This woman is a threat to your family and you're going to just ignore it? How can you do that?"

Jared shakes his head, tears sliding down his cheeks, but Jensen won't let him off the hook, this is too important. This is part and parcel of what he's getting when he joins this family, and he needs to understand it.

"Most of the time she's not violent," Jared pleads. "It's just once in awhile when she goes off the deep end..."

"Wait, what?" Jensen stares. "You mean, this has happened before?" He gets a whiff of smoke off the construction site next door and it hits him. "Oh no," he shakes his head. "She set the fire that night, didn't she? The fire that almost killed you."

Jared flinches, bites his lip, and Jensen knows he's right.

"Okay, now you listen to me," Jensen kneels in front of Jared, takes him by the shoulders, shaking him a little. "This is not okay. You've got a homicidal maniac living in your house, and just in the time I've been living here, she's tried to kill you, and tonight she tried to kill me. What part of that is okay with you?"

"I'll get better locks on the doors," Jared says lamely. "I'll double her guard. Just because I can't find people who will stay more than a month or two doesn't mean I have to stop looking. I just have to go further afield. Maybe Dallas...We can make it work..."

"No, Jared, we can't," Jensen insists, giving Jared another shake. "This is not working. This is not working at all. And I don't understand you. What is more important than your family's safety? Huh?"

Jared deflates then, breathes out a long, huffing sigh, looks down at his hands. He's still sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out like an overgrown preschooler, and Jensen almost feels sorry for him, although he can't imagine why he should.

"She _is_ my family, Jensen," Jared says finally, his voice soft and miserable. "She's my wife."

Cold water floods Jensen's veins. He knows instantly that it's true. Just like he knows instantly that this is the source of all of Jared's pain, all his brooding unhappiness. Given how obvious it is, Jensen's just surprised he didn't see it earlier.

He rises to his feet, backing away from Jared before he realizes what he's doing, stands a couple of feet away, staring down at the man he loves, sprawled like a helpless child on the floor. Jared's not looking at him, is instead looking down at the washcloth in his hands, thumb rubbing back and forth over the seam.

"Oh God," Jensen breathes out. "Oh God." There's a roaring in Jensen's ears that has nothing to do with the bump on his head. The room is suddenly stifling, too hot and too close, the air suddenly unbreathable. Toxic.

"I met her in Haiti, when we were both there doing hurricane relief work," Jared is saying, but Jensen's breathing has slowed and he's not sure he's even alive anymore. "She was beautiful, smart, talented, full of passion for her work, passion for everything she did. For me."

"What –- what's her name?" Jensen gets the words out without even being aware that he's moved his lips.

"Genevieve," Jared raises his eyes, tear-filled and distant with memory, not looking at Jensen really; looking through him. "Genevieve Cortese."

"How – how long?" The roaring in Jensen's ears has increased and he's trembling now, stammering.

"I was eighteen," Jared says, lost in the memories. "She was twenty-two. I'd never been in love before, and she was...amazing. I was lost, searching for something, I didn't even know what, and she understood me. She got me. She made me go to college, encouraged me to get my degree, supported and encouraged me, just like my sister always had. But Gen was...she was different. There was something wild and untamed about her. She wasn't afraid of anything."

"So...you married her," Jensen gasps, swallowing thickly, almost choking on the words.

Jared nods. "Her family were good people, or at least that's what I could see. They ran an orphanage in Haiti, spoke fluent French, took me in like I was one of their own...I'd never had parents, and Gen's parents just adopted me, like I was one of their orphans. Hell, I _was_ an orphan. It felt so good, being part of a family like that. I'd never known a mother or father, and Camille and Jeffrey were so welcoming, so happy to have me join them. Of course, they never mentioned Gen's older brother, and I only found out later that he was schizophrenic, that he was living on the streets much of the time because he wouldn't keep up with his meds, that he would come home periodically to steal and sell things to support his drug habit. Gen never mentioned him, and there were no pictures, no clue that there was another child..."

"It's genetic," Jensen says. "She had it even then. They knew."

Jared raises his eyes to Jensen's then, his expression so filled with desperation and grief it takes Jensen's breath away. Or at least what's left of it.

"Yes," he nods, tears overflowing his eyes now, sliding down his cheeks. "Yes, it's genetic. Adele..."

Jensen frowns, stares, uncomprehending. "What are you talking about? Adele's your sister's daughter. She can't have it."

Jared keeps staring, tears streaming down his cheeks, and that's when Jensen realizes.

"Oh God," he breathes, his chest constricting so he can barely get the words out. "Adele's not your sister's child. She's yours."

Jared sobs then, huge sobbing breaths tearing themselves from his chest, and he buries his face in his hands, shoulders heaving. Jensen waits, horrified, unable to move or speak as his brain processes the new information.

"Gen – Gen was already showing symptoms when we learned she was pregnant," Jared says finally, when he's got himself under control again. "By the time the baby was born, she was – she – " He swallows, wipes his eyes with the washcloth and the heels of his hands, tries again. "The doctors said it was the pregnancy that set her off. The hormones. She was never really herself again after Adele was born. For awhile she seemed to understand what had happened to her, but then, when it was obvious there was no cure, I think she just got more and more frustrated. Now – now she rarely has a lucid moment. And she hates me. She blames me, she blames Adele – she has these rages – "

Jensen takes a deep breath, lets it out slow through rounded lips, almost a whistle. "Adele doesn't know," he suggests.

Jared shakes his head sharply. "No. There's no reason for her to know. Megan and Tom adopted her shortly after she was born. She grew up with them, just visiting here once in awhile. She's never met Gen, and I intend to keep it that way."

"Jared, you can't lie to her forever," Jensen shakes his head. "Eventually, you have to tell her. She deserves to know. God, Jay, she needs to know. She thinks her father's dead. Do you know what that does to a kid's head? Thinking your parents are dead?"

Jared winces. "Yeah, I do," he answers, and Jensen huffs out a breath.

"That's right, you do," he nods. "Fuck. This is so fucked-up."

Jared looks up at him, eyes red-rimmed and swollen from crying, his expression so pleading and resigned, looking for all the world like a giant kicked puppy.

"Forgive me, Jensen," he begs. "I've been so used to keeping her a secret – no one knows – "

"No one?" Jensen repeats sharply, frowning.

"Well, Mrs. Fairfax knows, obviously," Jared recants. "John and Mary sort of know, although they've never asked directly and I've never told them anything specific. We were married in Haiti, the baby was born a year later, and by the time we moved back here Gen was already – she was already pretty sick."

"So you've been taking care of her here ever since," Jensen notes.

Jared nods. "Mrs. Fairfax supervises her care when I'm gone. It's hard to find a caregiver who will stay, given Gen's condition. She can be pretty abusive."

"Yeah, I get that," Jensen agrees. "What about her parents? Don't they care about her?"

"They both died in the one of the big aftershocks from the earthquake," Jared says. "Her brother, too."

"Jesus," Jensen breathes. "If y'all had still been there – "

Jared nods, and a tear slides down one cheek. "The orphanage collapsed," he says softly. "Gen's parents' house, too. We probably would've died. Maybe it would have been for the best."

Jensen's heart clenches in his chest and he shakes his head sharply. "No," he insists. "No way."

Jared stares up at him, all wounded and sorry-looking, and Jensen scrubs a hand over his face, rubs the back of his neck.

"I'll understand if you need to leave," Jared says, his voice so small and pitiful it brings tears to Jensen's eyes.

"Jesus, Jare," Jensen breathes, shifting his feet, looking away from Jared, all sprawled out so miserably on the floor. "You could've just told me."

"I wanted to," Jared insists. "I was going to. I just did."

"But – all that talk about getting married," Jensen stares at him, frowning. "This ring. You're already married. You're still married to her. How did you think that was going to work, exactly?"

Jared huffs out a breath, closes his eyes for a moment, puts his head down. "I don't know, Jensen. I wasn't thinking clearly, I guess. All these years, cooped up in this house with a sick person, I think I was well on my way to losing my mind. Then you came, bringing light back into my world for the first time in years – I knew it couldn't last, once you found out, but I was taking what I could get. I'm selfish, I know. I'm a monster and I didn't deserve you, but I just couldn't stop myself." He raises his head, that wild, pleading look in his face again as he gazes up at Jensen. "I hope you can forgive me one day, Jensen. I don't expect you to be able to now, but maybe someday, even if I never hear from you ever again, even if you walk out that door today as I'm pretty sure you're about to do, I have to hope you can forgive me, someday."

"Jesus," Jensen breathes out, scrubbing his face with one hand again, shaking his head. "You know what gets me about this, Jared? You didn't trust me enough to tell me. Right from the start, as soon as we – the first time – right then, you should've stopped and told me. At the observatory. You do see that, right?"

"I tried to stop it," Jared says. "I tried to walk away from you that night. I didn't want you to be involved."

"No, no, no," Jensen shakes his head. "That's wrong, see. Cuz I was already involved. From the first time I met you. And you knew that! You felt it, too, that first day. You told me so. There was never a moment when you could just walk away. You should've just told me. Right from the start."

"I couldn't lose you," Jared moans. "Even if I could only have you for a short time, I was too selfish to risk losing you."

"And now you have," Jensen clenches his jaw, frustration with Jared, with the whole business, just flooding over him like a tsunami. He's suddenly so tired he can hardly stand up, just wants to sink down on the ruined bed and sleep for a week.

Jared looks up at him for another moment, so wounded and resigned to his misery, so sure he deserves to be beaten. Then he gives a short nod and lowers his chin to his chest, defeated and broken, looking for all the world like a discarded puppet whose strings have been cut.

Jensen slips the ring off his finger, crosses to the nightstand and leaves it there, picking up his glasses and slipping them on instead.

"I'll have John drive you into town," Jared says, his voice hoarse and tired-sounding. Light has been seeping around the edges of the curtains for a few minutes now, and the rooster is crowing, a sound Jensen has gotten so used to in his months here he doesn't even hear it anymore.

"Tell Adele I'll write to her," Jensen says tersely. He's clinging to his righteous indignation, his frustration at Jared's stupidity, Jared's willingness to live a lie rather than risk telling Jensen the truth. He can't live with someone who won't trust him like that. He won't.

"You should go," Jensen says finally, standing so close to Jared's prone form he could almost reach out and touch him, could put his hand on his head and run his fingers through his long, soft hair. And now he never will again.

He shoves that thought down deep inside himself as Jared climbs wearily to his feet, moves away from him to the door, stops to look back one last time.

"I love you, Jensen," he says sadly. "I always will."

"Love's a verb, Jared," Jensen snaps, angry because it's his only defense right now, the only thing keeping him from dragging Jared into his arms and never letting go. "It's what you do, not what you say." He knows he's being cruel, but suddenly he just needs to get away, to take a deep breath somewhere that doesn't smell like Jared. He needs to clear his throbbing head, and he can't do it with Jared standing there, looking like a train just backed up over him, looking like his life is over. "I'll call you," he breathes finally. "I need to get my head together first, but I'll call. That's all I can promise right now."

Jared nods, sorrow etched so deeply in his handsome face it's as if it's taken permanent residence there. Then he lowers his eyes, turns slowly and leaves, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.

Jensen goes into action immediately, taking a quick shower, shaving, pulling his clothes on, the same ones he arrived in three months before. He stuffs his few belongings into his duffel, grabs his messenger bag and heads out, down the stairs to the front door. The rest of the house is still asleep, but John is waiting for him in the truck, nods at him as he flings his duffel into the back and climbs in, trying not to look back at the house, knowing Jared's watching from his window. The air is already hot and dry with the promise of a scorching early summer day, and Jensen thinks back to the first day, when he walked down this long driveway in the spring sunshine, hopeful and excited to start his new job. Now he looks into the side mirror and watches the house grow smaller, leaving all the hopes and dreams of his new life behind him, in the dust.

John is silent all the way to town, and Jensen is grateful for that. He really doesn't need to talk about it, feels embarrassed because John knows, knew all along and helped keep the secret, is part of the reason Jensen is leaving. John's arm is wrapped in a makeshift bandage, and it's another reminder of what happened tonight, of John's devotion and loyalty, his willingness to trust Jared when Jensen obviously can't. John's injury is a brand, a badge of honor that serves as a greater indictment of Jensen's abandonment than any words.

"Mr. Jared said to take you to the airport, if you want," he says as they're pulling into Fort Davis, but Jensen shakes his head.

"I'm gonna hang out here for awhile," he announces. "Get a room in the hotel." He's not sure why he's doing it, but once the idea comes to him he knows it's the right thing to do. He doesn't want to depend on Jared's generosity for one more minute, but he's not ready to leave town yet; he's not ready to leave behind every reminder of Jared.

John nods, pulling up in front of the Harvard Hotel. As Jensen starts to get out John hands him an envelope.

"Mr. Jared said to give you this," John says.

The envelope is thick, and when Jensen looks inside he finds several one-hundred dollar bills, crisp and new, along with a folded sheet of paper. He looks up at John expectantly and John nods.

"Your wages," he says. "The whole month's worth. Mr. Jared thought you could use the cash, rather than a check."

Jensen feels his cheeks flush. It's so final, being paid all at once like this, and it feels vaguely illegal and insulting, like he's been prostituting himself all this time instead of building a life. It occurs to him that Jared never mentioned paying him, after the initial letter offering him the job, and after signing the paperwork to have his monthly paychecks deposited directly to his account in Dallas, Jensen had never thought to bring it up again. It had seemed important that no money was changing hands directly. It had felt more like being part of the family, less like being employed.

But of course Jared would pay him now, would make sure he had money so he had the freedom to do whatever he chose. And Jensen doesn't count it, but he's pretty sure Jared's given him exactly what he's owed, not a penny more, so that Jensen doesn't have to feel like he's being bought off, like the prostitute he knows Jared doesn't intend for him to be.

He pockets the envelope in his jacket pocket, nods at John and retrieves his duffel, turns toward the entrance to the hotel, and almost runs straight into Reverend Collins, who's hurrying down the sidewalk with his head down so he doesn't even see Jensen until they almost collide.

"Jensen!" Reverend Collins exclaims, clearly surprised to see him on a Saturday. He stops, glances around, sees John's truck driving away. "Are you alone?"

"Yes, sir," Jensen nods, shouldering his duffel. "I'm on my way home. Well, not home. Just into the hotel, I guess."

"Are you alright, son?" Reverend Collins peers into Jensen's face, frowning empathetically. "You look a little peaked."

Maybe it's the sympathetic expression, maybe it's the comforting hand on his shoulder, but suddenly Jensen's stoic manly thing just crumbles and it's like a dam breaking. Jensen brushes furiously at his face as the tears flow, but it's no use. The waterworks are just doing their thing and they're not about to stop anytime soon.

"Jensen! Oh my, what's wrong, son?" Revered Collins kicks into ministerial high gear, pulling tissues out of his pocket and putting his arm around Jensen's shoulders, patting his arm gently. "Okay now, it's gonna be okay. Let's get you a nice cup of tea, shall we?"

Jensen lets himself be guided down the sidewalk and around the corner to the rectory. Rev. Collins lives with his sisters, Mary and Diana, and their housekeeper, Hannah, who is the only one up at this early hour. She frowns when Rev. Collins brings Jensen in the back door, sits him down in a chair at the table.

"Our young friend here could use a cup of tea, Hannah," Rev. Collins directs, pulling a chair out for himself as Jensen takes his glasses off and wipes them with a tissue, then blows his nose and gets himself under control enough to give Rev. Collins a shaky smile. "Now, you want to tell me what this is about?"

Jensen shakes his head. "I just quit my job," he says the first thing that comes into his head because there is no way in hell he'll tell a servant of the Lord the real reason he left Padlock Ranch.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Rev. Collins nods sympathetically. "Although I must say I'm not surprised. That place has a reputation for losing employees faster than anyplace I ever saw."

Jensen raises his eyebrows at that, but says nothing. After what Jared told him, he's pretty sure he understands why. It's clear that Rev. Collins doesn't know about Genevieve, though, and Jensen guesses that's because everyone who comes to work there from the outside signs a non-disclosure statement beforehand. Jensen had signed his without a second thought, imagining it was simply standard for rich people who had some celebrity status. He never would have guessed the real reason, not in a million years.

"Misha? Who are you talking to?" The voice is that of a young woman, who appears in the doorway a moment later, dressed casually in jeans and a tee-shirt, her long, dark hair falling in waves down her back. "Oh!" she exclaims when she sees Jensen. Her cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink and she puts her hand to her throat, as if she was suddenly feeling a little short of breath.

"Diana, this is Jensen," Rev. Collins introduces them. "Jensen, my sister, Diana."

Jensen guesses the girl is close to his age, maybe a year or two younger, and she reminds him a little of his old girlfriend. She's buoyant and chipper and full of life, and such a contrast to Jared and everything he represents that Jensen wonders if he's being tested, which is a thought that doesn't really make any sense, so he forgets it immediately.

"Jensen and I are having a little talk," Rev. Collins says to her, and Diana nods conspiratorially at Jensen.

"Okay, I'll just grab a banana and head out," she says as she reaches for the fruit bowl on the table. "Mary and I are going for a ride before it gets too hot. Nice to meet you, Jensen."

"You, too," Jensen answers automatically as she flounces out of the kitchen, wiggling her ass in a way that is obviously meant for his appreciation.

Rev. Collins sighs. "She's always been the wild child," he notes. "Ever since our parents died she's had a hard time finding her way."

"She's lucky she has you," Jensen comments, wondering at the coincidences life keeps throwing at him, why it is that everybody around him in this place out in the middle of nowhere has a similar family history. "And her sister."

"That's right," Rev. Collins says. "You lost your parents when you were young as well. You and Diana have that in common."

Jensen shifts uncomfortably, suddenly sure he's being tested, and not in a way he really wants to think about.

"I was an only child," Jensen says. "It would have made a huge difference if I'd had siblings, I think."

"But you turned out all right," Rev. Collins reminds him. "You're here, you've made a life for yourself. And you're young, Jensen. This job may not have been right for you, but there'll be others. You'll find your way. You've got your whole life ahead of you."

"I was sort of hoping there might be work for me here," Jensen finds himself saying without really thinking about it first. "I'm pretty handy, and I can teach. I've got a bachelor's degree in English, and I'm told I write well."

Rev. Collins raises his eyebrows, considering. "Well, a month or two ago we could've used a Sunday-school teacher, but that position's been filled. We've got a part-time church secretary, and I do the odd jobs around here myself. Actually, we're all leaving in a week or so to go down to Haiti, to help with the relief effort there. We'll be gone at least a month, maybe two."

Rev. Collins pauses, a funny expression coming into his eyes as he looks off toward the doorway where Diana disappeared. "You know, you could come with us, if you want. It's hard work, and we'll be living at the mission there, which is pretty bare-bones, nothing fancy, no electricity or running water. I know the mission is always looking for teachers, so maybe you could stay on, after we leave. Maybe..." he stops himself, glances toward the kitchen door again, and Jensen knows what he's thinking because Rev. Collins is being pretty obvious about playing matchmaker. "Well, never mind for now. What do you think?"

Jensen's feeling cold, empty, like he's been hollowed out with a sharp-edged spoon. Leaving Fort Davis, leaving Jared, probably forever, to go do the kind of work Jared was doing when he fell for Genevieve, the kind of work Jared's parents were doing when they died, feels like a kind of harsh poetic justice. It feels like penance for falling so hard for Jared in the first place.

He'll never make that mistake again, Jensen decides right then and there. If he ends up married to Diana, working in Haiti doing good works, helping people who really need it, it'll be better than he deserves, and a clear fulfillment of a kind of stoic destiny that will allow him to atone for his profligate youth, to do penance for allowing himself to imagine, even for a minute, that he could have wealth and love and a family with Jared and Adele.

"Yes," he says now, setting his jaw and raising his eyes to Rev. Collins, trying to put conviction behind his commitment. "Yes, that's sounds perfect."

Rev. Collins smiles and nods, patting Jensen's arm gently. "I think it does too, Jensen. I think God delivered you to us this day so that you could answer this calling. It feels very providential indeed."

"Yes," Jensen agrees, feeling so dead inside he can barely nod his head. "Yes, it does. Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Rev. Collins smiles. "All praise to the Lord, Jensen. These things have a way of working out in the most mysterious ways.

 _Yes, they do,_ Jensen agrees silently. _Yes, they do._

*// *

Jensen spends the day helping in any way he can around the rectory and the church. Turns out, there are a lot of things that need repairing, and Jensen's always been good with his hands, has the patience and perseverance to figure things out that need fixing, so he's able to offer more handy-man wise than Rev. Collins had expected. He repairs the piano bench in the music room as well as the sliding door on the keyboard, which both need screws tightened. Doors to most of the classrooms have hinges that squeak, nothing a little WD-40 couldn't fix, but Rev. Collins seems to think Jensen has worked a miracle once the squeaking stops. The good reverend's thirty-year-old Honda needs new spark-plugs and an oil-change, plus a new carburetor, and getting the thing up and running again takes most of the afternoon, but Rev. Collins is so grateful, Jensen's afraid he'll pop a gasket.

Diana and Mary stop by in the afternoon while he's leaning in over the engine, and after introducing herself, Mary goes off to find them some cold drinks, leaving her sister to flirt shamelessly with Jensen. Diana's changed into shorts and a sleeveless top that rides up her belly, and she really knows how to work it, so that if Jensen hadn't been grieving, if every reminder of his libido didn't remind him of Jared, Diana might've had a chance. As it is, Jensen barely glances at her, keeping his eyes on his work, his mind so far away from sex Diana finally gets the hint and stomps away, exasperated.

That night over supper, Rev. Collins is effusive in his praise and appreciation for all that Jensen can do.

"I had no idea how much we could use another man around here," he says as he chews his steak. "You have many talents, Jensen. God clearly meant for you to join our little family."

"Yes, I'm sure He did," Jensen agrees with an absent smile.

"Me, too," Diana winks at him from across the table, obviously enjoying the view.

"We're so glad you'll be joining us on the mission to Haiti," Mary says warmly. She's a sweet, kind-hearted girl a few years older than her sister, but still younger than their brother, who Jensen decides can't be more than thirty. It's a little like being back in college, to be surrounded by so many young people again, and it should make Jensen feel alive, excited with promise, not dead and empty and hollow. Instead of looking forward to the future, it seems strangely gray and flat when Jensen thinks about it, like all the color has gone out of the world.

Diana gives up her room and moves in with her sister so Jensen can have his own room to sleep. "Just for the week," she assures Jensen. "It's practice for how we'll be roughing it in Haiti."

The family turns in early, even though it's Saturday night. Rev. Collins always gets up early on Sunday mornings to prepare his sermon, and the sisters teach Sunday-school, so lights are out in the Collins home by 10:00 p.m. Jensen tries to read for awhile, tries to get comfortable in Diana's narrow little bed, finally gives up and goes for a walk. The streets of Fort Davis are quiet on a Saturday night, the only activity going on in the hotel's bar, where a band is playing and a few unfamiliar couples are dancing. Jensen settles at the bar, orders a whiskey, lets the warm liquid soothe the dull ache in his chest. After the second or third glass he's relaxed enough to sleep, so he starts back to the rectory, only stumbling a little as he leaves the bar, opening the door to utter chaos. The scene outside is a cacophony of sound, lights, and wailing sirens. When Jensen steps onto the sidewalk someone rushes past him, yelling, "Fire!" and Jensen practically falls back into the bar. Lights flash as a fire-truck jangles past, followed by a rescue truck, horns blaring. A tornado siren is making its slow-winding alarm, and more people run past, all headed south.

"What's happening?" he grabs the arm of a man who's jogging up the sidewalk, and the man turns and stares at him like he's some kind of ghost, like Jensen doesn't even exist.

"It's Padlock Ranch," the man says. "It's on fire." He pulls free and resumes his urgent jog.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Jensen's veins flood with ice. He's instantly sober, wide awake with terror. He runs blindly toward the rectory, runs smack into Rev. Collins as he's coming out of the kitchen door, shrugging his shirt on over his tee-shirt.

"Jensen!" Rev. Collins stops short, fumbling with his buttons, reading Jensen's confusion and terror instantly. "That's the call for all hands on deck," he explains as he leads Jensen to the Honda, slips into the driver's seat. "They need as much manpower as they can get. When there's a major fire like this we're basically on our own; the nearest fire station is almost thirty miles away in Alpine – that's an hour from Padlock Ranch – and although they'll come as fast as they can, our little volunteer company is closer. I've got buckets in the trunk."

Jensen gets into the passenger seat with his heart pounding so hard he's afraid he's having a heart attack. Rev. Collins watches the road as they pull out, following several vehicles – mostly pick-up trucks – out of town and south on Route 118, then west on 166 toward the ranch. Those who can drive faster, passing the slower vehicles; Rev. Collins keeps a steady pace, both hands on the wheel, and Jensen clutches his seat so hard he thinks he might punch holes in it.

After a couple of minutes, Rev. Collins glance over at him, frowning. "You okay, Jensen?" he asks. "You're not gonna pass out on me, are you?"

Jensen shakes his head sharply, sucking in a deep breath through his nose, clenching his jaw so tight it aches. "Nah, I'm okay," he lies, trying to keep his mind off the night he dragged Jared out of his burning bedroom, but it's a losing battle. All he sees is Jared's face, slack and unconscious, soft pink mouth loose and parted, sharp, angular features relaxed in sleep too deep to be natural.

"I'm sure they're all fine," Rev. Collins assures him, reaching over to pat Jensen's knee, the gesture at once fraternal and just a little too familiar, like Jensen's already part of the family.

Jensen turns his head, stares at Rev. Collins' profile for a moment, steadying himself. 

"Did they – did you hear how it started?" he asks. and Rev. Collins shakes his head.

"Just that it's too much for the farm-hands to handle alone," he says. "There's an emergency phone tree, and I got the call not ten minutes ago. The tornado siren alerts the whole town so we're wasting as little time as possible. Ranches around here are pretty isolated places, and every minute counts."

Jensen nods, stares out the windshield at the road ahead, and after a few more minutes of riding in silence, he sees a glow on the horizon, like the sun is starting to rise. Except as they get closer, he can see smoke billowing into the night sky, obscuring the stars. That's when he realizes that the glow is flickering. The landscape is so flat out here it makes distance deceptive, and it actually takes another ten minutes before they reach the long driveway to Padlock Ranch. By that time Jensen is sweating, barely holding himself in place as the enormity of the blaze grows and grows with proximity, until it seems to engulf the entire horizon, then the sky itself. The flames shooting high into the night sky cast an eerie glow on the landscape for miles around, flickering and changing color from yellow to orange to deep, dark red, like blood. It looks as if the entire ranch is burning, outbuildings and stables and pastures, and there are men and women running back and forth, dozens of others swinging their arms in bucket lines in front of the flames like miniature cartoon silhouettes. The town's sole fire engine is parked dead center in front of the main conflagration, a huge ball of flame and smoke that only faintly resembles a house anymore. Huge flat-bed trucks holding pumping machines are parked alongside the fire-truck, manned by several ranch-hands wielding long hoses, all aiming water at the fire in what seem like pitiful attempts to quell the leaping flames.

Jensen can barely wait for Rev. Collins to drive down the long gravel driveway, and as soon as they've come as close as they dare Jensen is out of the car, running down the rest of the driveway toward the fire, eyes sweeping the clusters of people wildly, looking for the tall man who should be easy to see towering above the crowd.

Which is why he almost stumbles right over Jared, sprawled in the dirt with John and one of the farm holds holding him down, bellowing at them to let him go.

"No, Mr. Jared, it's too late!" John insists for what must be the tenth time, all but sitting on Jared to keep him from leaping up. "You'll get yourself killed!"

"Let me go!" Jared bellows again, struggling so hard he manages to throw John and the other man off, lurches to his feet.

Which is when Jensen throws himself against Jared as hard as he can, pushing him back with the force of his momentum, knowing he's no match for Jared if he's truly pumped with adrenaline and stubborn will-power, but Jensen's just as determined to try.

"No, Jay, it's too late!" Jensen grabs Jared's collar in both hands, shaking him, trying not to notice that his face and clothes are streaked with soot, his hair dripping and hanging down at odd angles, so that it's obvious it was on fire at one point, that somebody had to throw water on him to put it out. 

"Damn it, that's enough! Stop! Stop, Jared!" Jensen shakes him, ignoring the tears streaming down his face because he can see Jared's injured, needs medical attention, and the only thing keeping him on his feet is his frantic need to get back into the burning building, to save something that can no longer possibly be saved.

Jensen registers the moment Jared finally realizes he's there. His wild gaze focuses and he frowns, staring down into Jensen's face, and his body stops moving as he relaxes a little into Jensen's hold.

"She wouldn't stop," Jared says, his voice wrecked and hoarse from shouting. "She laughed at me and ran back up the stairs."

"Who?" Jensen's hands are clutching Jared's collar so hard his knuckles are white. "Who ran back up the stairs, Jared? Adele? Is Adele still in there?"

"Adele's right here, Mr. Jensen." Jensen jumps at the sound of Mrs. Fairfax's voice, notices her for the first time, standing to one side with Adele standing silently beside her, staring at the chaos and destruction with her huge dark eyes round as saucers. She meets Jensen's gaze with a look at once somber and wise and so much older than her eight years it's a little disturbing.

Relief floods Jensen's system like warm bath water, soothing and comforting, and he's so grateful he almost lets go of Jared so he can sweep Adele into his arms and hold her tight. But the minute he starts to let up his hold Jared tries to wrench loose, and Jensen reacts out of desperation and fear, barely hesitating as he pulls back and takes a swing at Jared, clocking him good on the jaw and sending him sprawling in the dirt and gravel.

Adele screams, and Jensen's immediately sorry because Jared is out, knocked unconscious or maybe he'd been barely conscious in the first place and the punch sent him over the edge. Either way, Jensen's knocked him out, and he's a little freaked because it felt right when he did it, like he was meting out justice while trying to save Jared's life. But the joke's on Jensen, because if Jared killed himself tonight it would be Jensen's life that would really be over, and Jensen knows it. He threw that punch as much to save himself as to save Jared.

There's the whine of an airplane engine overhead, a crop-duster temporarily converted into a fire-plane, which sweeps low over the flames and dumps its load, then sweeps back up into the smoky night sky. Jensen falls to his knees next to Jared, feels for a pulse, finds it weak but steady.

"Sorry, Jay," he murmurs as he pushes the hair off Jared's face. "I shouldn't have left you, man. I'm sorry." There's commotion behind him; the ambulance has arrived from Alpine. The EMTs push Jensen aside gently, take his place next to Jared so they can check his vitals, roll his big body onto a stretcher. His feet hang over the end, but he manages to look so small with the EMTs working him over, that it raises all of Jensen's protective instincts, so that when they load him into the ambulance and start hooking him up to an i.v. and oxygen mask Jensen climbs in after him.

"Are you family?" the EMT asks, and Jensen nods.

"I'm his brother," he lies smoothly, stubborn determination in every word, and the EMT just nods, allows him to sit next to Jared and hold his hand as the doors are closed and the ambulance starts its hour-long journey back to Alpine. Jensen is aware of the chaos of the fire scene receding into the distance through the back windows, but his eyes are on Jared's face, willing him to be all right, to heal in body and soul, willing him to hear Jensen's silent promise never to leave him, ever again.

Jared's eyes flicker open a couple of times during the long ride, long enough to see Jensen sitting there, holding his hand. Jensen imagines the look in Jared's eyes is relief; when he feels Jared's fingers squeeze his, just a little, Jensen has to believe it's comforting to Jared, knowing he's there. At any rate, his eyes close again right away and he's out again. The EMT explains that Jared's suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning, has burns over a significant percentage of his body, will probably need to be hospitalized for at least a week. When Jensen tells him Jared was on his feet, fighting to get back into the burning house just before the ambulance arrived, the guy shakes his head in disbelief.

"That's good, though," the EMT says. "Sounds like he's got a powerful will to live. He'll need it."

**Part Four:**

When they reach the hospital Jared is rolled off into an examining room in Urgent Care, leaving Jensen to fill out and sign a lot of paperwork. Luckily John and Mary show up almost immediately with another man who turns out to be Jared's lawyer, so they take over the insurance matters, leaving Jensen pacing in the waiting room.

"Adele – " Jensen starts when Mary joins him, patting his arm kindly.

"She's fine," Mary assures him. "Rev. Collins offered to take her and Mrs. Fairfax in, when he found out you'd gone to the hospital with Jared. They'll be over in the morning."

It's several hours before the doctor comes out, explains to them that Jared's been stabilized and is resting comfortably, although they've got him in a medically-induced coma for the time being. Infection is a huge risk with burns and smoke inhalation, so Jared will need to be monitored closely for awhile in Intensive Care.

"Can I see him?" Jensen asks immediately, and apparently the doctor has been informed that Jensen is "next of kin," because she nods, smiling sympathetically.

"Yes," she agrees. "But be aware that he's unconscious, so he won't be able to respond to you. He might be able to hear you, though; with coma patients, anything is possible, and I believe it speeds the healing process to have a loved-one near, to hear their voice."

Jared looks small in the tiny hospital bed. He's got the mask over his face and the i.v. in his arm and bandages around both forearms where he's been burned. His hands are wrapped too, so when Jensen stands over him and slips his hand in Jared's, all he can feel is his fingertips. Jensen stands for several moments just looking down at the man who is the love of his life, a man who nearly lost his own life tonight, trying to save the woman he loved.

Finally, Jensen pulls up the little metal chair in the corner, sits down next to the bed and runs his fingertips up and down Jared's arm gently.

"Almost lost you there, buddy," he growls softly. "Don't know what I would've done if you died tonight, Jay."

He stops, fighting back tears, clears his throat, tries again. "I'm not real good at talking, as you know, unless I'm mad, I guess. I can speak my mind when I need to, and that's what counts, right? But the doc says I should talk to you, cuz it'll help you heal faster, so that's what I'm doing."

He clears his throat again, shifts a little on his chair, takes Jared's hand in both of his and looks up at him. "I figure mostly everything's been said between us, so I don't have much to add except to say that I'm here, if you still want me, when you wake up. Not going anywhere. Cuz the truth is, you're pretty much it for me, Jay. Maybe I'm a fool for hoping you'll take me back after I walked out on you like that, but here's me hoping you'll do just that."

Jensen lowers his head, rubs his thumb along the edge of the bandage on Jared's hand. "You and Adele, man. You two are like family. I want to be there while she grows up. I want to be there for her, no matter what happens, if you'll let me. I want to share the responsibility for that, with you. We'll deal with it, whatever happens. We'll deal with it together."

He looks up at Jared's still face, wondering if he's hearing a word Jensen's saying, wondering if he cares. Jensen decides it doesn't matter. Things need to be said, so he's saying them, and that's all there is to it.

"Truth is," Jensen takes a deep breath, clenches his jaw. "Truth is, the way I feel about you, I just don't think I want a life without you in it, any way you'll have me. So you get well, Jared, so you can kick my ass for walking out like that, okay? You just get better soon, so you can tell me what an asshole I am."

Jensen feels the tears welling up again so he stands up, holding Jared's hand carefully, leans down over the bed and sweeps the hair off Jared's brow with his other hand, then presses his lips to Jared's forehead. Jared's skin is unusually dry and cool, and the feel of it against Jensen's lips tears a sob from his chest, causes tears to spill out of his eyes.

"You get better, Jay, y'hear?" Jensen demands fiercely, gazing down into Jared's pale face. "You get well, cuz people need you. _I_ need you. I need you so fucking much – " he breaks down then, has to grab for the tissues on the tray next to the bed. "Ah, Jesus," he gasps as he wipes his eyes, glad at least that Jared can't see what a big baby he is.

He's calmed down by the time Mary comes in an hour later to relieve him. He doesn't want to leave Jared's bedside for a minute, but Mary insists, whispers that John's gone back to the ranch to supervise the clean-up. He'll be back later in the day with Adele and Mrs. Fairfax to give them a chance to visit, not that Jared's really up to visitors right now, but the doctor thinks it will be good for him to have loved ones around.

Mary seems to take for granted that Jensen is back, that he's in the family, like he never left. She pats him on the arm and rubs his shoulders in her warm, motherly way, and Jensen has to struggle not to cry again, not to give into the urge to cling to her and sob like a little boy.

Out in the hall he runs into the doctor, who takes one look at him and pronounces him dead on his feet, prescribes a small room with a bed where the doctors often catch a few winks on their breaks.

"You're no good to your brother dead," she tells him as she practically pushes him onto the bed, and Jensen realizes it's been more than twenty-four hours since he slept.

"A few minutes," he agrees as she closes the door, plunging the room into cool, soothing darkness. Jensen's out before his exhausted brain can form another coherent thought.

When he wakes up it's still pitch-dark, but Jensen has the feeling he's been asleep for hours, not minutes. He staggers to the door groggily, finds the hallway busy and full of people, daylight streaming in from windows in open rooms up and down the hall. He staggers toward the nurses station, more than a little disoriented, is stopped short as a familiar little girl flings herself against him, hugging his waist for all she's worth.

"Adele," Jensen sighs her name as he hugs her back, petting her dark hair gently. "Hey, sweetheart." He looks up at Mrs. Fairfax, her face creased into a disapproving frown. "Did you just get here?" he asks, and she shakes her head.

"We're just leaving," she answers. "I'm taking Adele to the cafeteria for some lunch. We're staying over at the Best Western until Mr. Jared gets better."

Jensen nods, suddenly has to ask, "Mrs. Fairfax, do you know if – did she – is she – " he can't seem to make himself say the name of Jared's wife, but Mrs. Fairfax knows exactly what he's asking. She shakes her head, glancing down at Adele before raising her eyes to Jensen again.

"Nobody could've survived that fire, Mr. Jensen," she says darkly. "Thanks to Mr. Jared, we all got out in time and nobody got hurt. Except Mr. Jared, of course."

Jensen nods, then gently untangles Adele's arms from his waist and kneels down in front of her. "I'm going to check in on Uncle Jared, and I'll see you later, okay?"

Adele nods, slips her hand into Mrs. Fairfax's, like a much younger child, and Jensen watches them walk off down the hall, Adele glancing back at him just before they turn the corner. It makes his heart ache, watching her dealing with yet another tragedy, yet another disastrous and unsettling event in her young life. And it makes him more determined than ever to be here for her, to see her through it. What was he thinking, imagining himself in Haiti with Diana and Revered Collins? This is the only place he ever wants to be, right here with Jared and Adele, with stiff old Mrs. Fairfax, with maternal Mary and reliable John.

But of course Jared has to get well first.

Jensen spends the rest of that day and most of the next in the ICU, mostly sitting helplessly next to Jared's bed, waiting, watching, and talking to him. Mary and John arrive at a certain point, force some food into him, bring him a change of clothes. Mary gives him a Bible and a battered copy of _Tom Sawyer,_ which Rev. Collins insisted she give to him when he learned Jensen's keeping vigil this way.

"You can read out loud to Mr. Jared," she suggests. "It was Rev. Collins' idea."

Apparently, the whole town of Fort Davis and surrounding farms and ranches are aware of what's happened. Of course they are. Rev. Collins led a special prayer service for the Padalecki household on Sunday morning, and his sisters held a food and clothing drive to help replace items lost in the fire.

"Of course, all of that goes straight to charity," Mary explains. "We're not the ones in real need here, but it's good people are thinking generously. That's always a good thing."

Mary and John have moved into the Best Western next door, where Adele and Mrs. Fairfax are staying, although John is spending most of his time at the ranch, supervising the clean-up after the fire and working with Sonny to keep the ranch running while the family is away. Jensen's pretty sure there'll be no word of the body found in the ruins, nobody outside the family will mourn the death of the beautiful, damaged woman who first held Jared's heart. 

"You can move in too, Mr. Jensen," Mary suggests. "John can bring your bags from Rev. Collins' house when he comes back today."

Jensen nods distractedly, not really caring since he's sleeping in the chair next to Jared's bed until Jared wakes up, and everyone on the hospital staff seems to understand that Jared's brother is not leaving his side and that's just the way it is.

On the third day after the fire the doctor tells Jensen it's time to let Jared wake up. She slowly doses back on the medication that's keeping Jared asleep, and Jensen is right there when he first opens his eyes, blinks a couple of times as his brain adjusts to what he's seeing.

"Hey, buddy," Jensen reaches up, brushes the hair back from Jared's forehead, leaves his hand there.

Jared lifts his hand awkwardly, trying to pull the oxygen mask away, and Jensen shakes his head.

"No, hey, don't do that," he admonishes. "The doctor says you need the extra oxygen right now. Your lungs are full of smoke. They're giving you antibiotics for the burns and in case of a lung infection, so..."

But Jared manages to pull the mask off long enough to croak out, "You look like shit."

Jensen smiles. "You don't look so hot yourself," he comments dryly. But it's a lie. Jared's more beautiful than he's ever been right now, in all his suffering, injured, heroic glory, and Jensen's never been more in love with him.

Jared puts his hand up to his left cheek and pulls the oxygen mask aside again.

"You hit me," he accuses, touching the purple bruise gingerly.

"You were trying to kill yourself," Jensen answers with a frown. "I stopped you."

Jensen's still got a hand on Jared's forehead, smoothing his hair back, and Jared gazes at him silently for a moment. Then his eyes fill with tears and he pulls the oxygen mask away again,

"I couldn't save her," he whispers hoarsely. "She wouldn't let me." His voice breaks on a sob, and tears slip down his cheeks, into his ears.

"Hey, sh-sh-sh," Jensen soothes, leaning closer and twining the fingers of his other hand, the one not stroking Jared's hair, with Jared's hand, partly to comfort him, partly to hold onto him so he can't pull the mask off again. "You did everything you could, Jay. You took good care of her. Better than most people would've done."

When Jared shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut as more tears slide out, Jensen squeezes Jared's fingers and nods.

"Yes you did, Jared," he insists. "You did good. You took care of her all those years, gave her a home, kept her safe." Jared shakes his head more vigorously, and Jensen shushes him. "Nobody could've stopped this from happening. Nobody. This is not your fault, Jared, you hear me? She was getting worse. She was a ticking time bomb, and you know it. She was bound to go off, no matter what you did. But the main thing is, everybody got out, nobody else got hurt, and she's at peace now, Jared. She's at rest."

Jensen presses a kiss to Jared's temple, sits back just as the nurse comes in to check on the patient. Jensen withdraws so the nurse can do his work, but Jared keeps his eyes on him, watches him steadily except when the nurse is in the way. Jensen nods reassuringly, stands aside until the nurse leaves, then resumes his place by Jared's bed, tangling his fingers with Jared's again and stroking his hair until he falls asleep.

**//**

It's another day before Jared gets to leave the ICU. They move him to a room where he can begin his recovery, and while he's still being monitored carefully for infection, he's mostly out of the woods now. Jensen allows himself to leave Jared's room to go back to the motel to shower and change, and he even sleeps for a few hours during the next couple of days, but most of the time he's right there next to Jared, reading to him, talking to him, holding his hand when he needs it.

On the third day out of the ICU Jared's sitting in a wheelchair by the window when Jensen enters the room. His arms and legs seem abnormally long and emaciated sticking out of the short hospital gown, which is really more of a shirt on Jared's tall frame. The bandages on his arms are stark white against his tan skin, and his face seems thinner, even more sharply angular than usual.

"Hey," Jensen smiles at his friend. "You're up. Looking better."

"Liar," Jared croaks, but the edges of his mouth turn up and Jensen gets a flash of his dimples before sorrow clouds his eyes again.

"But you're _feeling_ better, I'll bet," Jensen insists, not backing down as he pulls up a chair so he can sit opposite. He lays a piece of paper on the table next to Jared. "Adele made you another picture," he says.

Jared glances at it, tries to smile again. "Tell her it's beautiful," he croaks.

"Tell her yourself," Jensen admonishes. "Mrs. Fairfax is bringing her by this afternoon."

Jared nods listlessly, keeping his eyes on the picture another minute, but Jensen knows his mind is already on something else, and when Jared speaks, he knows he's right.

"Jensen, we need to talk," Jared croaks, and Jensen shakes his head.

"Already told you, Jay, when you're better. We can talk all you want when you're all well. Till then, you need to save your voice. And I'm not going anywhere, I told you that, so you don't need to worry that I won't be here when you're ready."

"No," Jared says, shaking his head. "We need to talk now. Before Adele gets here. Before she sees you here, with me."

"Okay," Jensen nods, feeling his palms sweat as his heart drops, his gut twists. He watches Jared's face apprehensively, but Jared won't look at him, making him even more nervous. "Shoot." Actually, please don't, he pleads silently, but he's determined to remain open and responsive, to let Jared say whatever he needs to.

Jared takes a deep breath. "I know what you're doing," he says finally. "And I can't let you do it."

Jensen's so confused he can't answer at first, just shakes his head and frowns at Jared, then finally asks, "What? What am I doing?"

Jared takes another deep breath and lets it out. "The empathy thing," he answers finally. "Like your job in Dallas. The way you are with kids – with people – who have disabilities. Your gift."

Jensen shakes his head again. "My what? My gift? What are you talking about?"

"Jensen, you must know how good you are with people who have challenges, who are disabled or ill or incapacitated. You're a natural caregiver. It's why I hired you. Only – I don't want to be your project, Jensen. I know I have some recovering to do, and you've promised to be here for that, but I can't – I won't let you do that. It's not fair to Adele." Jared sighs, shifts uncomfortably in the wheelchair, still unable to meet Jensen's eyes.

Jensen stares, unable to believe what he's hearing. "You – you think I'm here because I'm helping you get better? Is that it? I mean, I am, but you don't really believe that's the only reason, do you?"

"Jensen, you were pretty clear about why you left, and I understand. I really do. I'm not sure I could trust me if I were you, not after keeping such a big secret from you. In fact I'm pretty sure I couldn't. And Rev. Collins told me you about your plans to work at the orphanage school in Haiti. I admire that. It sounds like the perfect job for you. And now that he's postponing his trip another month, you'll be able to go with him and his sisters when they go..."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Jensen puts his hands up. "He told you what? I haven't agreed to that. He and I haven't even spoken since the fire."

Jared frowns. "But I thought..."

"You thought wrong, Jay," Jensen shakes his head. "No way I'm leaving you. No way."

Jared lifts his eyes then, looks at Jensen with an expression so full of pain and heartbreak it makes Jensen want to cry.

"But you can't stay, Jensen," Jared says, his broken voice choked with the effort not to cry. "It's not fair to Adele. She needs stability and predictability more than ever now. And she's so fond of you, I couldn't even tell her you left before. I couldn't bear to. But now...I can't let her keep thinking you're joining the family, Jensen. It'll hurt her too much when you leave."

Jensen clenches his teeth, closes his eyes. This is not how this is supposed to go.

"Okay, here's the thing," Jensen says finally, tipping his chin to his chest so he can look up at Jared with his eyebrows raised, willing him to understand. "I'm not going anywhere. Ever. You got that? I'm staying. With you, with Adele, with the whole dang family. If you'll still have me after...what I did."

Jared stares, disbelieving, confused. "But you said..."

"Fuck what I said," Jensen gestures irritably. "I fucked up, okay? I hurt you, and for that I am truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

"But I lied to you," Jared protests. "I deceived you."

"You know what? That sucked," Jensen agrees. "Never, ever do that again. Okay? You got me?"

Jared stares, and Jensen can see the moment his confusion clears and he really hears what Jensen is saying, because his face floods with hope, literally fucking radiates the damn stuff. Then his beautiful slanted eyes fill with tears again. Of course they do, and Jensen leans forward, puts his hands on the armrests of Jared's wheelchair and shakes them a little.

"No lies, no secrets," he repeats. "Not with me, not with Adele. You got me?"

Jared nods, then does a double take as he gets Jensen's meaning. "I can't tell her about her mother," he protests. "That would be wrong. That could destroy her."

"No, you listen to me," Jensen gives the chair another little shake. "When she's old enough, you tell her. She'll deal. We can tell her together."

Jared's shaking his head. "No, Jensen," he mutters, voice choked with tears. "If she finds out Megan isn't her real mother, it'll kill her."

"No, it won't," Jensen argues. "There's nothing you can say to her that will ever make her love Megan any less. Megan was her mother. But Genevieve is her biology, and she deserves to know."

"It's a death sentence!" Jared sobs out, his face contorting in pain. "I need her to be happy for as long as she can, damn it!"

Jensen squats down in front of the chair, slides his hands over Jared's where they're clutching the armrests, squeezes to get his attention. Jared looks up through tear-filled eyes and his anguished expression relaxes a little.

"You listen to me, Jay," Jensen speaks slowly, intently, waiting till Jared is really looking at him, really seeing him. "She's half you. You are her father. Those are good genes, Jay. Strong Padalecki genes. She has you running through her veins. Her chances are better than you think."

Jared's shaking his head, tears sliding down his cheeks, but he's listening. At least he's listening.

"You know what else?" Jensen continues, squeezing Jared's hands again. "You know what to look for. You're an expert at caring for somebody who has it. And it's manageable, in a huge portion of the population. It's more manageable than you think. Genevieve's case is rare, you know that? I looked it up. Very few schizophrenics are homicidal. It's also preventable, from what I've read. We can do things to keep her from getting it. This isn't the end of the world, Jared, that's what I'm trying to say. We can handle it. Together."

"You're not going to leave us?" Jared says hesitantly, like he still can't quite believe it. "You're not gonna pack up and go if things get tough?"

Jensen shrugs. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Jared. I don't have a lot of experience with relationships. But I know a good thing when I see it, and you and Adele? That's it for me. That's what I've been looking for all my life. Not giving that up. Ever."

He looks down at Jared's bare legs, long and lanky and incredibly tan. He leans in, presses his lips to the inside of Jared's knee, and Jared shivers.

"Besides," Jensen growls, lifting his eyes to Jared's, which have suddenly gone dark with lust. "I haven't shown you that blow job I do so well." He winks as Jared's cheeks redden, as his eyes slide closed and his head tips back and he lets out a long, low moan. "You don't want to miss out on that, do you?"

Jared's legs fall open as far as they can on the narrow chair as Jensen presses his mouth to Jared's skin, kissing up the inside of his thigh to the edge of the hospital gown, sliding under to wrap his fingers around Jared's erection.

"Oh my God," Jared gasps, bucking up into Jensen's hand as Jensen pushes the gown up, buries his nose in Jared's musky, unwashed groin.

It's tender and hot and appeals to the voyeur in both of them to imagine some hapless hospital worker walking in on the Padalecki brothers going at it, and by the time Adele arrives they're both feeling pretty relaxed and happy. They're proud of themselves for keeping the drama to a minimum for the little girl, and Mrs. Fairfax seems to understand right away that they're together again.

**Epilogue:**

Rev. Collins isn't pleased, but he's not surprised either; somewhere along the line he obviously figured out what was really happening between Jared and Jensen, and although at first he seems a little disappointed, in the end he wishes Jensen happiness and good fortune before he heads off to Haiti with his sisters in tow.

They decide not to try to move back to Padlock Ranch, although Jared sanctions the rebuilding of the house and the caretaker's cottage, both destroyed in the fire. He pulls some strings and has Genevieve's body buried under the tree in the back yard, and he and Jensen stand side by side as Jared says a few words about her life, his memories of her in better times, and his gratitude for the gift of their child.

Once Jared has recovered and his burns have mostly healed, they take Adele to Stockbridge, Massachusetts, get married in the historic Red Lion Inn before driving to Boston, taking in the Aquarium and historic sites there. They spend the fall in Martha's Vineyard, at the house Jared remembers staying in with his sister as a child. Adele starts talking one day, when they're out on the beach and she's playing in the sand with Buck. It happens so naturally Jensen doesn't notice at first, just hears the sweet little voice going on and on about mermaids and princes, telling Buck a story as she builds her sandcastle. When it hits him he glances at Jared, finds him already watching Adele with a little smile. Jared raises his eyebrows, grins wider, reaches between their beach chairs and tangles his fingers with Jensen's in silent acknowledgment of the little miracle. Neither of them dares to spoil the moment, so they sit and listen quietly until Adele looks up and smiles at them, proud and confident, as if she's just done the most amazing thing, which of course she has.

When the air turns chilly they fly home to Texas, to another of Jared's houses, this one on the lake in Austin. On the one-year anniversary of their meeting, they sit outside on the deck and watch the water and the stars, sipping whisky but nixing the cigars, since Jared can't ever smoke again if he wants to keep his lungs. Jensen watches the water and the stars for awhile, then finds his gaze drawn to Jared's profile, decides it's the best view of all. Jared catches him looking and grins, all dimples and teeth and sparkling eyes, then he reaches over and takes Jensen's hand, tangling their fingers together.

"What?" Jared demands.

Jensen shakes his head a little, smiling at his husband because really, who could resist that gorgeous grin?

"Nothing," he says. "Just you."

"I love you too, Jen," Jared says, his voice low and rumbling.

Jensen blushes to the tips of his ears, looks away at the lake and takes a sip of his whisky, shifts a little in his chair. He may never get completely used to Jared's blatant expressions of affection, the easy way he expresses his feelings, no matter how sentimental.

But he likes it. Jensen really, really likes it.

Not that he'll ever say that out loud to Jared, of course.


End file.
